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riiijJM  rii'i 

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BAIIY 


Library  of 
The  University  of  North  Carolina 


COLLECTION  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINIANA 


ENDOWED  BY 

JOHN  SPRUNT  HILL 
of  the  Class  of  1889 


C?I3^6»U^ 


This  book  must  not 
be  token  from  the 
Library  building. 


THIS  TITLE  HAS 


BEEN  MICROFILIVED 


Form  No.  471 


JUNE  GOLD 


In  the  girl's  answering  smile  there  was  something  of  a  far  away 

wondering. 


JUNE  GOLD 


BY 

WALDRON    BAILY 

Author  of  "Heart  of  the  Blue  Ridge, 
"The  Homeward  Trail,"  etc. 


Frontispiece  by 
PAUL    STAHR 


w 


New  York 
W,  J.  Watt  &  Company 


PUBLISHERS 


r 


COPYKIGHT,    1922,    BT 

W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


^ 


JUNE  GOLD 

CHAPTER  I 

A  BOVE  the  intermittent  staccato  clatter  of  the 
j\  ticker  that  spoke  jerkily,  nervously,  now  hur- 
ried, now  stopping  a  moment  for  breath,  like 
a  keyed-up  woman,  the  telephone  in  Harrison  Steele's 
magnificent  private  office  tinkled  low  and  unobtru- 
sively. It  was  exactly  the  kind  of  musical  sound  that 
might  have  been  expected  in  such  surroundings  where 
only  the  nervous  ticker  broke  dashingly  in  on  the  sub- 
dued splendor. 

Harrison  Steele  dropped  the  ticker  tape  that  ran 
through  his  fingers,  something  of  annoyance  flitting 
across  the  face  that  was  lined  with  the  tenseness  of 
his  watching,  and  picked  up  the  receiver. 

*'Send  them  in,"  he  ordered  as  he  listened  to  some 
one  from  the  other  end  of  the  wire.  He  leaned  back 
in  his  comfortable  chair,  and  bit  the  end  from  a  fresh 
cigar,  his  eyes  on  the  door  after  one  last  annoyed 
glance  at  the  ticker,  now  still  for  a  moment. 

The  big  mahogany  portal  opened  softly  to  admit 
two  men.  One  of  them  was  a  small,  immaculately 
garbed  individual  whose  entire  outfitting  lived  up  to 


2  JUNE  GOLD 

the  incipient  mustache  on  his  babyish  face  with  the 
china  blue  eyes  looking  wonderingly  about  him.  There 
were  those  who  were  wont  to  remark  that  Clement 
Ashley  went  through  the  world  wondering — perhaps 
principally  what  it  was  all  about.  It  was  certain,  how- 
ever, that  he  had  given  all  the  rest  of  their  world 
one  reason  to  wonder.  That  was  the  why  of  his  in- 
timate friendship  with  Harrison  Steele.  The  Wall 
Street  man  into  whose  private  office  Ashley  now  en- 
tered, with  his  inseparable  companion,  Billy  Meade, 
was  as  much  his  opposite  as  the  center  meridian  is  the 
North  Pole's.  Harrison  Steele,  a  man  who  was  all  his 
name  implied;  Steele,  big,  hard  to  harass,  his  mane  of 
thick  hair  reminding  of  the  mane  of  a  lion,  which  ani- 
mal he  resembled  in  so  many  other  respects — though 
the  unimpressed,  such  as  the  dapper  Ashley  and  other 
intimates,  did  not  hesitate  to  remind  the  broker  that 
there  was  a  less  impressive  domestic  animal  remark- 
able principally  for  its  stubborn  qualities  and  its  utter 
antipathy  to  being  led  that  the  big  man  more  resembled. 
Polar  opposites  though  they  might  be,  though,  it  was 
a  conceded  fact  that  Clem  Ashley — in  a  somewhat 
lesser  degree,  Billy  Meade — and  Harrison  Steele,  were 
intimates  of  the  closest  order. 

Just  out  of  the  semi-dusk  of  the  outer  office  of  Har- 
rison Steele,  the  small  man  stood  on  the  threshold  of 
the  inner  sanctum  for  a  moment,  his  feet  sunk  deep 


JUNE  GOLD  S 

into  the  black  velvety  rug,  his  china  blue  eyes  blinking 
in  the  sunlight  that  filtered  across  the  deep  mahogany 
furnished  room — mahogany  that  caught  all  the  glints 
and  flung  them  back  in  prismatic  gleams. 

"  'Lo,  Steele,"  began  that  small  man.   ^Thought " 

"Come  in  and  close  the  door  and  stop  winking  at 
me,"  commanded  the  big  man  from  behind  his  shining 
glass-topped  desk.    "I  haven't  got  a  thing." 

''Humph!"  was  the  valiant  answer.  "Not  even 
good  sense.  Could  have  told  you,  if  you'd  listened, 
but " 

Apparently  unnoticing  his  friend's  remark,  Steele 
turned  to  the  little  man's  companion. 

"Sit  down,  Meade,"  he  invited,  and  his  hand  reached 
for  a  lower  drawer  which  he  jerked  open  and  brought 
into  view  a  bottle  nearly  filled  with  an  amber  liquid, 
and  bearing  a  label  that  the  Volstead  act  had  turned 
into  something  precious.  Clement  Ashley  grinned  and 
blinked  as  Steele  produced  the  glasses. 
,  "Something  the  market  hasn't  got  yet,  eh?"  smiled 
Meade,  as  he  turned  his  glass,  reflectively  watching 
the  light  through  the  amber  fluid.  But  that  the  smile 
was  rueful  did  not  escape  the  keen  eyes  of  Steele  as 
his  own  glass  was  lifted. 

"No,"  he  declared,  and  his  jaws  clamped  shut 
belligerently,  "and  won't.  I'll  get  out  entirely  first, 
before  I'd  lose  one  bottle  of  that  stock  I've  cached  up 


4  JUNE  GOLD 

in  Broad  Acres.  That's  my  fortune,  and  I  pat  myself 
on  the  back  every  time  I  think  I  had  sense  enough  to 
stock  up  for  a  lifetime  when  I  had  the  chance.  Must 
have  been  something  prophetic  in  Dad  Steele  when  he 
built  all  that  cellar  room  up  there  in  the  Westchester 
place." 

"Too  bad  you  didn't  inherit  some  of  the  prophetic 
thing  that  would  keep  you  from  'bearing  it'  when 
everybody  on  the  Street  has  told  you  you'd  come  a 
cropper,"  remarked  Ashley  sarcastically.  "Say,  why 
d'you  keep  it  up,  Steele?" 

Steele's  calm  eyes  traveled  over  his  small  guest 
slowly,  as  though  wondering  how  much  the  younger 
man  could  understand. 

"Because  they  tried  to  tell  me,"  he  explained  calmly. 
"It  isn't  done." 

Ashley  laughed  shortly. 

"Well,  I  am,"  was  his  comment.  "And  have  been — 
good !  So's  Meade.  Serves  us  right,  though.  Listen- 
ing to  you,  instead  of  to  everybody  else — *And  his 
name  was  Maude,'  "  he  ended,  with  outspread  hands 
to  indicate  that  the  entire  matter  was  described  in  the 
last  few  words. 

In  spite  of  the  bantering  tone,  Steele's  face  flushed 
unexpectedly. 

"Say,  Meade,"  he  addressed  the  third  man,  "did  you 
and  Clem  get  hit  very  hard  on  my  advice  ?" 


JUNE  GOLD  5 

Meade  nodded  silently,  as  though  hesitating  to  ad- 
mit his  error,  or  not  wanting  to  wound  his  friend. 
But  Ashley  chirped  up. 

^'Cleaned  me — of  all  I'm  going  to  be  cleaned — two 
hours  ago,  but " 

Steele's  keen  glance  was  solemn  as  he  looked  his 
friends  over,  but  there  was  no  hesitancy  in  his  voice 
as  he  spoke,  his  determination  shown  only  in  the  way 
his  fingers  snipped  off  the  ticker  tape  that  had  been 
running  idly  through  his  fingers. 

*'0f  course,  you  understand,"  he  said,  *'that  I'll  not 
allow  you  to  lose  anything  by  this.  I  was  so  sure 
I  was  right — I'm  not  even  admitting  now  that  I 
wasn't,"  he  interjected  hurriedly,  "and  you  were  the 
only  two  who  believed  me,  so " 

Ashley's  interruption  was  drawling,  sarcastic. 

"So  now  you  think  you'll  make  a  donation  out  of 
the  ruins  and  give  us  back  our  playthings,  eh?"  he 
asked.  "Well,  my  dear  sir,  that  isn't  done — it  really 
isn't,  you  know."  But  Steele,  knowing  his  friend,  and 
seeing  beneath  the  banter,  knew  that  Ashley  meant 
what  he  said,  and  that  reimbursement  was  out  of  the 
question. 

"If  the  time  ever  comes,"  went  on  Ashley,  his  small 
breast  extended  like  a  pouter  pigeon's,  "that  I  can't 
take  my  own  medicine,  why  sir,  I'll — I'll — I  don't 
know  what  I'll  do — I'll  shave  off  my  mustache." 


6  JUNE  GOLD 

What  had  come  close  to  being  a  tension  passed 
harmlessly  enough  with  a  laugh,  but  nevertheless  there 
was  foremost  in  the  minds  of  each  man  who  laughed, 
the  story  over  which  all  the  financial  district  had  been 
chuckling  or  gloating  for  the  week  past — the  story 
of  how  Harrison  Steele's  bullheadedness,  his  stubborn- 
ness, his  determination  to  take  no  counsel  or  advice 
save  his  own,  and  never  to  admit  himself  in  the  wrong 
had  at  last  brought  him  near  to  calamity  in  spite  of 
the  huge  fortune  which  had  been  left  to  him  by  more 
careful  speculative  forbears,  and  which  a  phenomenal 
luck  of  his  own  (for  indeed  most  of  the  big  man's 
deals  had  been  more  often  the  result  of  "hunches"  or 
of  sentiment  than  of  cool  headed  bargaining)  had  so 
greatly  augmented  that  he  had  for  years  been  known 
as  one  of  the  powers  in  the  Street. 

Strangely  enough  for  a  speculator,  though,  Harrison 
Steele  was  known  as  a  man  without  enemies.  "If  you 
can  leave  himself  out,"  had  always  been  the  laughing 
comment.  For  it  is  the  rare  thing  that  a  man  can 
augment  his  fortune  in  the  market  without  leaving 
behind  him  a  trail  of  disgruntled  or  actually  inimical 
less  fortunate.  His  own  enemy  in  truth,  he  reflected 
now  as,  for  the  first  time,  he  seemed  to  realize  that 
his  own  stubbornness  in  making  his  bear  movement 
on  A.  R.  Motor  Products  had  been  so  directly  against 
the  advice  of  all  who  were  in  a  position  to  know.    Yet 


JUNE  GOLD  7 

he  had  been  so  sure.  His  Information  had  been  fault- 
less, he  thought.  There  didn't  seem  a  way  possible 
for  A.  R.  M.  to  escape  a  receivership  long  before  this. 
And  there  It  had  been  going  up.  Up !  Up !  Steadily. 
It  was  Incomprehensible.  More.  It  was  disastrous. 
He  glanced  glumly  at  the  silent  ticker  with  Its  short 
end  of  tape  where  his  strong  fingers  had  bitten  it  off. 
There  was  something  resentful  In  the  glance.  How 
dare  they  prove  him  wTong! 

As  If  sensing  his  attitude  and  wanting  to  gloat,  the 
little  ticker  spoke  sharply. 

Tch-tch— tch-tch-tch ! 

Once  more  it  was  spinning  out  for  the  man  and 
his  friends  watching  It  In  the  silent  luxurious  office 
high  above  Broad  Street,  its  story  of  the  stormy  morn- 
ing on  the  Exchange  floor.  A.  R.  M.  had  advanced 
another  point  during  the  little  machine's  silence. 
Ashley  and  Meade  looked  eagerly  and  Inquiringly  at 
their  big  friend  as  he  dropped  the  tape  and  his  hand 
went  toward  the  telephone.  He  shook  his  head  at  the 
unasked  questions. 

"Another  point  up,"  he  Informed  dryly.  "Just  an- 
other fifty  thousand  gone  the  way  of  some  other  good 
dollars."  His  smile  was  a  little  twisted  as  he  added: 
"A  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  In  an  hour — a  bit 
strong,  even  for  me.  Got  to  see  a  late  edition — want 
to  read  the  obituary "    His  hand  touched  the  tele- 


8  JUNE  GOLD 

phone,  but  Ashley  drew  a  paper  from  his  pocket  and 
thrust  it  toward  Steele. 

"Here  y'are — just  got  it." 

Folded  over  at  the  financial  page,  the  paper  was 
ready  for  Steele  with  the  story  it  had  to  tell : 

A.  R.  MOTOR  PRODUCTS  TOUCHES  48  IN  HEAVY 

TRADING 

Following  an  unaccountable  steady  demand  at  small  ad- 
vances shortly  after  the  opening  of  the  Exchange  this  morn- 
ing, A.  R.  Motor  Products  soared  on  flying  wings  shortly 
before  noon,  and  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  a  well-known 
member  who  has  been  making  a  bear  raid  on  the  com- 
modity, reached  48,  twenty  points  higher  than  the  lowest 
it  reached. 

It  is  rumored  that  a  well-known  banking  house  has  come 
to  the  aid  of  the  almost  defunct  company,  and  that  the  op- 
eration they  have  performed  on  the  invalid  is  having  the 
same  effect  that  monkey  glands  have  on  an  elderly  invalid. 
No  confirmation  of  this  report  could  be  made,  however,  but 
it  is  certain  that  with  A.  R.  M.  in  the  condition  it  is  at  the 
present  that  any  further  bear  raiding  w411  be  throwing  good 
money  after  bad. 

Steele  dropped  the  paper  on  his  desk  and  his  face 
was  glum  as  he  faced  the  others. 

"Guess  you're  already  familiar  with  the  autopsy,'* 
was  his  comment.  They  nodded.  Harrison  Steele 
reached  for  the  amber  bottle  and  replenished  their 
glasses. 

Ashley  was  the  first  to  speak. 


JUNE  GOLD  9 

"Haven't  you  had  enough,  old  man?"  he  asked, 
and  there  was  the  timidity  in  his  voice  which  showed 
concern  for  his  friend,  but  an  unwilhngness  to  in  any 
w^ay  further  stir  up  the  stubbornness  which  he  knew 
might  be  that  friend's  financial  ruin.  He  had  lost 
enough  already  without  going  in  deeper.  And  it 
would  be  so  like  Steele  to  bet  he  was  right  to  his  last 
farthing.  Without  replying,  Steele  again  reached  for 
his  telephone. 

"Get  Anderson  on  the  wire,"  he  commanded,  and 
his  words  were  bitten  off. 

During  the  moments  required  for  his  order  to  be 
carried  into  effect,  his  eyes  never  wavered  from  the 
ticker  tape  with  its  tale  of  disaster.  Watching  him, 
the  eyes  of  both  the  other  men  held  pity.  Why  must 
Steele  be  so  stubborn?  Why  could  he  not  admit  him- 
self beaten  for  once  and  get  out  while  the  getting  was 
good?  Was  he  about  to  give  Anderson,  his  broker, 
another  ruinous  order? 

Steele  spoke  sharply  into  the  telephone. 

"Any  light  ahead,  old  man?"  he  asked.  Silence  for 
a  moment,  then: 

"It  just  can't  be,  Anderson!"  he  exploded.  "Of 
course  I'm  right — they're  sure  to  go  under  sooner  or 
later " 

Veins  swelled  on  his  forehead  as  he  listened. 

"Oh,  hell!"     He  fairly  shouted  Into  the  harmless 


10  eTUNE  GOLD 

instrument.  "I'm  not  licked!  Won't  be  licked!  I'll 
quit — quit  the  whole  damned  thing — ^but  I  won't  quit 
licked !'' 

For  minutes  more  he  listened,  and  the  lips  grew 
into  a  stern  straight  line  as  his  thoughts  were  formed. 

"Say,  Anderson!"  he  shouted  suddenly.  "Get  this! 
Listen  carefully  and  do  as  I  say.     Close  me  out — 

completely!       Yes — everything I'm     through! 

Close  me  out — lock,  stock  and  barrel — Get  that !  Yes, 
certainly  I  mean  it!  I'm  through,  I  tell  you — 
t-h-r-o-u-g-h,  through !" 

The  telephone  receiver  clicked  on  its  hook  with  a 
jerk  that  sent  the  instrument  reeling.  Harrison  Steele 
whirled  round  in  his  padded  desk  chair  and  the  swift 
movement  of  his  big  foot  sent  the  tittering  ticker 
whirling  in  another  direction.  Before  he  spoke,  his 
hand  once  more  reached  out  for  the  now  fairly  well 
depleted  amber  bottle.     He  waved  it  aloft. 

"Gentlemen!"  he  declaimed  sonorously.  "You  see 
before  you  a  well-known  ex-broker!  Through,  but 
not  defeated !" 

Both  men  were  looking  at  him  curiously  and  won- 
deringly. 

Meade  spoke. 

"But  surely,  Steele,  you  can't  mean " 

"T-h-r-o-u-g-h  spells  through,  as  you  heard  me 
remark,"  was  the  big  man's  calm  answer.  "No  bulling 


JUNE  gol: 


11 


So  I've  quit.    You 
n's   about   to   begin. 


for  me  to  pull  me  out  of  a  hole 

heard   me.      Now   the   celebrati 

Been  due  for  a  vacation  a  long  feme — and  there's  the 

yacht  in  commission  in  the  Florla  waters,  and " 

''And  the  cellars  up  at  Broz|  Acres "  put  in 

Meade  with  his  slow  smile. 

"And  hurrah  for  the  lights  hat  shine !"  Clement 
Ashley  waved  his  immaculate  haidkerchief  as  he  leapt 
from  his  chair.     Steele  glowerej  at  him. 

"Cut  it,  Clem !"  he  growled.  '  "When  did  you  ever 
hear  of  me  going  crazy?  l(ou  and  your  bright 
lights •'' 

Ashley  looked  innocent. 

"Can't  a  fellow  light  him^lf  up?"  he  queried, 
wonderingly.  j 

"Plenty  of  fuel  up  at  Broad  [Acres,"  nodded  Steele. 
"Good  for  many  a  conflagration.  We'll  go  up  there 
and  start  it — then  Florida  and  the  Falcon  and  some 
real  fishing  and  a  vacation.     IVre  you  on?" 

Ashley  pretended  to  consult  a  date  book. 

"Umm — umm "  he  commented,  his  lips  pursed 

up  in  perplexity.  "Hate  to  throw  Bernhardt  and  Jane 
Adams  down  like  that,  but,  of  course,  as  long  as 
it's  you,  old  chap,  and  it's  your  coming-out  party  and 
all  that,  why — er " 

Meade  drained  the  last  drop  in  his  glass  and 
reached  for  his  hat  and  stick. 


n  ,UNE  GOLD 

"Call  your  aeroplaie/*  he  remarked  casually,  as  he 
rose  with  alacrity. 

"After  I've  calle<  Grayson  Cardwell/*  answered 
Steele  with  a  smile.  "We  losers  must  stick  together." 


CHAPTER  II 

IN  the  lives  of  the  general  run  of  American  families 
whom  success  has  crowned,  there  are  usually  two 
favorite  steps;  up  from  the  soil,  and  back  to  it. 
When  the  fathers  of  the  present  generation  had  made 
enough  from  the  land,  whether  as  gentlemen  farmers 
or  just  workers,  it  was  the  city  for  them.  It  is  the 
present  generation,  of  which  Harrison  Steele  was  a 
shining  example,  that  is  making  the  return.  But  the 
simple  farmers  of  a  day  gone  by  would  scarcely  rec- 
ognize the  modern  day  "farms"  that  are  calling  the 
banker  from  his  ornate  office,  the  broker  from  his  seat 
on  the  Exchange. 

The  natural  beauties  of  Westchester  County,  just 
beyond  the  confines  of  New  York  City,  have  made  it  a 
favorite  happy  hunting  ground  for  men  like  Steele, 
surfeited  with  wealth,  who  were  pleased  to  consider 
themselves  as  going  back  to  the  soil  when  they  had 
purchased  a  few  hundred  acres  of  ground,  built  palaces 
thereon  and  installed  an  army  of  servants  to  play 
with  the  corn  and  wheat  and  oats  and  cows. 

Harrison  Steele  loved  to  refer  to  Broad  Acres,  his 
estate  which  had  been  part  of  the  ancestral  fortune 

IS 


14  JUNE  GOLD 

bequeathed  him  as  his  "farm."  Native  residents  of 
the  country  surrounding  his  truly  broad  acres  chose 
to  consider  it  the  show  place  of  their  country,  and  to 
make  it  the  mecca  for  journey ings  with  visitors,  a 
place  at  which  they  pointed  with  pride.  And  point 
was  all  they  could  do,  for  it  was  seldom  that  one 
caught  more  than  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  big  concrete 
mansion,  sprawling  its  Spanish  architectural  length 
through  vistas  of  trees,  for  one  of  the  especial  prides 
of  Broad  Acres'  owner  were  the  miles  of  concrete  fence 
that  stood  man  high  all  about  the  grounds,  enclosing 
even  the  acres  of  turfed  pasture  land,  the  ordered 
shocks  of  corn,  wooded  hills  and  winding  trout 
streams. 

*'Not  much  of  a  place  for  burglars"  was  a  stock 
comment  from  man  or  woman  who  stood  up  in  the 
passing  vehicle  for  a  better  glimpse  of  what  lay  be- 
yond the  pinkish-tan  masonry. 

''Hmmph!  You  ought  to  see  inside,"  was  the  in- 
variable answer.     "Such  cellars!     Such  vaults!    And 

they  do  say "     But  it  would  be  here  that  voices 

were  lowered  and  secrets  whispered  as  to  the  contents 
of  those  vaults. 

Undoubtedly  Broad  Acres  was  a  show  place, 
though  it  was  oftener  that  its  glories  were  enjoyed 
by  a  band  of  carefully-selected  caretakers  than  by  the 
big  young  master  of  the  estate  who  found  his  greater 


JUNE  GOLD  15 

enjoyment  in  an  office  high  up  above  the  roar  of  curb 
trading.  Strictly  speaking,  Broad  Acres  was  an  evo- 
lution. When  it  had  been  purchased  by  the  father  of 
Harrison  Steele,  it  had  been  a  rambling  farm  house 
which  he  had  set  about  to  fit  up  so  that  he  might 
enjoy  his  remaining  years  back  on  the  farm.  But 
somehow,  the  architects  who  were  brought  out  from 
the  city  never  seemed  to  do  w^hat  he  wanted.  As  a 
result,  the  simple  farm  house  had  grown  by  wings  and 
ells,  and  finally  had  blossomed  out  with  its  present 
concrete  outside,  its  Spanish  mission  predominance, 
its  wide  windows  and  patios — and  its  guarding  fence. 
Since  coming  into  its  present  ownership  on  the  death 
of  the  elder  Steele  some  years  before.  Broad  Acres 
had  fallen  into  a  state  of  innocuous  desuetude  from 
which  it  showed  small  signs  of  recovering,  or  its  wide 
mission  doors  once  more  opening  in  the  hospitable 
manner  that  had  been  the  custom  during  the  lifetime 
of  Harrison  Steele's  father.  In  fact,  the  young 
broker  had  come  to  think  of  his  country  estate,  in 
spite  of  all  its  grandeur,  as  more  of  a  storehouse  for 
his  choicest  possessions  than  a  place  in  which  to  live. 
For  it  was  with  the  coming  of  prohibition  that  he  had 
showed  most  interest  in  it.  Then  he  had  found  oc- 
casion to  make  real  use  of  the  immense  cellars  which 
undermined  the  sprawling  edifice,  even  though  the 
house  itself  and  his  father's  cherished  furnishings  may 


16  JUNE  GOLD 

have  had  no  meaning  to  him.  Days  on  days  swarms 
of  men  had  been  busy  in  the  cellars  and  from  mere 
underground  store  houses  they  had  taken  on  the  vault- 
like appearance  of  a  city  banking  institution.  At  the 
conclusion  of  this  work,  Harrison  Steele  viewed  the 
restilt  with  pride.  As  he  turned  the  last  key  in  the 
steel-doored  vaults,  filled  to  the  tipmost  top  with 
choicest  vintages  and  liquors  that  were  later  to  be 
worth  a  king's  ransom  and  which  vast  trucks  had  been 
for  days  busily  hauling  past  the  more  or  less  scand- 
alized eyes  of  his  native  neighbors,  it  was  with  a  sigh 
of  contentment  that  the  broker  pocketed  his  keys. 

"Now,  let  them  do  their  worst,"  he  grinned  to  Clem 
Ashley  who,  of  course,  had  been  an  interested  specta- 
tor of  the  proceedings.  ^'There's  enough  there  for  a 
lifetime — for  mine,  anyway." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  the  world  yours'll  be  a  short  and 
merry  one,  if  you  ever  expect  to  get  rid  of  that  supply 
—even  with  my  eager  aid,"  was  his  little  confidantes 
reply. 

Harrison  Steele's  comment  was  his  slow  sage  grin. 

"They  say  you  never  can  tell,"  he  remarked  non- 
committally. 

Blest  though  he  was  with  his  golden  spoon,  and 
with  the  further  advantage  of  unassailable  inherited 
position,  Harrison  Steele  was,  nevertheless,  a  disap- 
pointment to  people  of  his  own  class  whenever  Broad 


JUNE  GOLD  17 

Acres  or  its  owner  was  contemplated.  There  were 
sighs,  too — regretful  ones,  as  charming  matrons  and 
eligible  daughters  whirled  by  the  cultivated  stretches 
of  the  show  place  in  their  upholstered  limousines. 
Why  was  Harrison  Steele  so  obstinate?  Why  refuse 
to  take  advantage  of  his  position?  Would  he  never 
marry  ? 

But  as  years  went  by  and  he  showed  no  such  incli- 
nation— no  inclination  even  to  accept  the  proffered 
hospitality  of  his  own  class,  much  less  to  throw  open 
the  doors  of  Broad  Acres  in  entertainment,  it  had 
come  rather  to  be  accepted  that  the  owner  was  not  a 
marrying  man. 

True,  Broad  Acres  was  some  times  the  scene  of  en- 
tertaining of  a  sort,  but  such  affairs  were  for  the 
most  part  merely  stag  affairs  and  the  occasion  for 
friendly  conviviality.  In  fairness  it  must  be  said  that 
Steele  himself  took  no  great  part.  The  coming  of 
prohibition  had,  it  is  true,  roused  his  stubborn  spirit 
and  he  was  determined  that  no  man  should  say  him 
nay  when  he  chose  to  drink  or  let  it  alone,  but  to  sug- 
gest that  the  consumption  of  vast  quantities  of  liquid 
refreshment  was  either  a  necessity  or  even  a  recreation 
with  him  would  be  far  from  the  truth.  Regretfully, 
it  must  be  admitted  that  this  was  not  always  the 
case  with  some  of  his  friends,  and  some  of  the 
parties  that  had  been  held  of  recent  date  at  Broad 


18  JUNE  GOLD 

Acres  lived  well  up  to  the  standard  set  In  a  freer,  if 
not  nobler  day.  There  were  rumors,  too,  that  the 
swish  of  silken  skirts  and  the  patter  of  slippered  feet 
had  more  than  once  been  the  accompaniment  to  high- 
pitched  laughter  that  could  not  have  been  produced  by 
any  of  the  immaculate  clubmen  who  had  rolled  up  to 
the  place  in  their  racers  or  limousines.  Harrison  was 
a  complacent  host.  Though  he  himself  might  not  be 
interested,  far  be  it  from  him  to  deny  his  friends  the 
companionship  they  believed  necessary.  However, 
this  was,  as  has  been  remarked,  rumor.  It  was  hard 
to  know  what  actually  went  on  behind  those  guarded 
walls,  those  steel-barred  gates  with  their  bells  that 
must  be  rung  before  a  caretaker  took  careful  cogniz- 
ance of  whoever  wished  admittance. 

Dusk  was  advancing  over  the  young  green  of  the 
maple-lined  highway  as  the  car  which  carried  Har- 
rison Steele  and  the  companions  who  were  to  celebrate . 
with  him  his  retirement  from  active  business,  whirled 
up  to  the  main  gateway  of  Broad  Acres.  The  last 
rays  of  the  sun  purpled  and  pinked  and  greened  the 
clouds  of  sunset  which  silhouetted  the  Spanish  archi- 
tecture of  the  great  house  in  its  frame  of  new  green 
things,  and  made  greener  the  rhododendrons  which 
flanked  the  curving  driveway.  Vines  In  their  new 
spring  dress  clinging  tightly  to  the  mellow  tan  walls 
lent  them  something  of  the  dignity  of  walls  of  an  old 


JUNE  GOLD  19 

Spanish  chapel.  The  car  halted  at  the  gate  that  the 
chauffeur  might  summon  the  caretaker.  Steele  had 
never  thought  it  necessary  to  carry  with  him  extra 
keys  for  his  seldom-used  country  place.  Not  even 
the  need  of  new  supplies  for  his  office  or  club  often 
took  him  Westchesterward,  for  it  was  so  much  easier 
to  have  O'Keefe,  the  trustworthy,  bring  them  to  him. 

Grayson  Cardwell  stretched  himself  lazily. 

"Some  hut,  Steele,"  he  drawled. 

Young  Ashley  sniffed. 

"For  Lord  and  Lady  O'Keefe — and  their  sisters 
and  their  cousins  and  their  aunts,"  he  remarked  sar- 
castically, as  he  shifted  his  position  and  lighted  a  fresh 
monogrammed  cigarette.  "How  many  of  them  on 
the  payroll  now?" 

From  the  gate  the  chauffeur  turned  to  glance  at 
Steele. 

"Can't  seem  to  get  any  answer,"  he  told  his  em- 
ployer in  puzzled  manner. 

"Keep  on  ringing,"  commanded  Steele,  somewhat 
irritably.  "O'Keefe's  around  somewhere,  and  I  rang 
him  up  before  we  started  so  I  know  he's  expecting 
us." 

*'Maybe  he's  learned  the  vault  combination/* 
laughed  Meade.     "An  Irishman " 

But  Steele  w^as  not  listening.    His  eyes  were  on  his 


20  JUNE  GOLD 

chauffeur  who  was  examining  the  supposedly  locked 
gates. 

"Something  wrong  here,  Mr.  Steele,"  he  announced 
with  a  small  quiver  of  excitement.  "Gates  not  locked 
at  all — just  a  pretense — looks  to  me  like  they  might-a 
been  jimmied  or  something " 

In  a  bound  Steele  was  beside  him.  A  shove  and 
the  big  iron  gates  bounded  open,  the  huge  lock  that 
had  been  their  protection  clanging  protest  as  it  fell  to 
the  graveled  drive. 

"What  the "  began  Steele,  as  his   eyes  went 

lightning  swift  toward  the  house  from  which  there 
was  no  sign  of  welcome  or  habitation.  But  with  the 
uncompleted  sentence,  he  was  already  running  along 
the  curved  driveway  with  its  flanking  greenery  toward 
his  house.  Nor  did  either  of  the  other  three  wait  for 
the  chauffeur  to  clamber  back  to  his  seat  and  drive 
them  through  the  opened  gates ;  they,  too,  leapt  to  the 
ground  to  sprint  after  their  host. 

The  incessant  clamor  Steele  had  already  set  up  on 
the  front  door  knocker  when  the  others  reached  him 
brought  no  response.  Its  reports  could  be  heard 
echoing  dully,  deadly,  as  through  an  empty  untenanted 
house.  Though  he  brought  all  his  huge  strength  to 
bear  on  the  door  as  he  flung  his  body  against  it  in  an 
effort  to  break  it  down,  its  massiveness  resisted  his 


JUNE  GOLD  21 

efforts  as  It  might  have  the  puny  strength  of  a  sparrow 
fluttering  its  wings. 

''Hadn't  we  better  try  a  battering  ram,"  suggested 
Ashley,  futilely,  as  he  flittered  about,  trying  to  raise 
himself  to  peer  into  windows  high  above  his  head. 

But  Steele  was  too  much  perturbed  to  hear  him. 
Something  was  obviously  wrong.  He  was  going  to 
find  out  what  it  meant. 

*'Damn!"  he  said,  and  he  struck  off  for  the  rear  of 
the  house,  careless  of  the  trampled  shrubbery  that 
grew  in  the  way  of  a  shorter  cut.  Wonderingly  his 
three  friends  trailed  after  him. 

The  kitchen  door  was  ajar,  but  from  within  there 
was  no  sound.  In  the  servants'  sitting  room  off  it, 
however,  they  discovered  Mrs.  Katherine  O'Keefe, 
wife  of  the  prize  caretaker,  and  chatelaine  extraordi- 
nary of  Broad  Acres  through  most  of  the  year.  But 
Mrs.  O'Keefe  did  not  see  her  master  nor  his  guests. 
For  the  simple  reason  that  Mrs.  O'Keefe  lay  on  a 
couch  sleeping  peacefully.  The  odor  of  chloroform 
still  clinging  to  the  beruffled  maid's  apron  that  was 
wadded  across  her  face  told  its  story. 

**Damn!"  repeated  Steele,  and  his  eyes  flashed 
ominously. 

''Hell's  bells!"  somewhat  more  elegantly  ejaculated 
Billy  Meade.  Their  few  words  were  pregnant  with 
meaning. 


22  JUNE  GOLD 

One  thing  only  was  in  the  mind  of  Harrison  Steele. 
No  time  would  he  waste  going  through  the  house 
to  see  what  might  have  happened.  Only  his  cellars, 
his  cherished,  vaunted  burglar-proof  vaults  concerned 
him.  Leaving  Mrs.  O'Keefe  to  take  her  nap  peace- 
fully, he  dashed  for  the  cellar  entrance.  Careless  of 
what  they  might  encounter,  neither  Ashley,  Meade, 
nor  Grayson  Cardwell  were  far  behind.  More  than 
their  peace  of  mind  was  threatened.  Their  thirst  was 
at  stake,  and  they  meant  to  see  this  thing  through. 

Li  the  semi-darkness  of  the  first  cellar,  Steele's  foot 
tripped  over  an  obstacle  as  he  leapt  down  the  stairs. 
His  hand  sought  the  electric  button  and  in  the  light 
that  flashed  on,  the  oncoming  men  saw  that  bundle 
move  and  a  pair  of  eyes,  goggling  with  fright,  blink- 
ing in  the  sudden  glare,  gazed  up  at  them  above  a  mas- 
terly-made gag.  Those  tyes  were  all  of  Patrick 
O'Keefe  that  seemed  to  be  alive,  for  he  was  trussed 
up  like  a  fowl,  his  legs  bent  so  that  any  amount  of 
effort  on  his  part  would  have  been  of  no  avail. 
Nearby,  and  just  outside  his  reach,  lay  a  shotgun  with 
a  shattered  barrel,  futile,  maddening.  But  passing 
O'Keefe  and  his  misery,  the  men's  eyes  searched 
further  on  in  their  eagerness.  Directly  in  front  of 
them  lay  the  heavy  door  to  the  inner  cellars  and  the 
vaults;  shattered,  too,  like  the  gun;  likewise  futile. 

Ideal  master  of  his  servants  as  he  was  generally 


JUNE  GOLD  23 

conceded  to  be,  Harrison  Steele  for  once  In  his  life 
made  comfort  and  consideration  for  Patrick  O'Keefe 
a  secondary  matter.  In  one  leap  he  was  across  the 
cellar  room  and  through  that  shattered  door.  It  was 
left  for  Clement  Ashley  to  put  his  carefully  trousered 
knees  on  the  dust  of  the  cellar  floor  and  loosen  the 
bonds  of  the  keeper  of  the  treasure.  As  Billy  Meade 
bounded  after  Cardwell  and  Steele,  he  heard  the  small 
man's  efforts  being  rewarded  by  a  voluminous  Celtic 
groan. 

There  was  no  need  of  words  to  explain  the  cellar 
room  into  which  Steele  and  his  guests  emerged.  The 
story  was  shouted  at  them  by  the  mass  of  tangled  steel 
wreckage  that  was  scattered  about  the  floor,  and  by 
the  steel  door  of  the  burglar-proof  vault  which  hung 
limply  by  one  hinge. 

Steele  picked  up  an  exploded  cap. 

"Dynamite!"  he  gritted.  He  had  said  it  all  in  one 
word.  But  as  the  eyes  of  his  two  guests  went  past 
the  open  door  to  pierce  the  dimness  of  the  vault,  their 
answers  were  groans. 

Those  once  so  well-filled  vaults  were  empty !  Empty 
as  the  heart  of  a  childless  widower! 

Sputtering  and  heavy  breathing  back  of  him  and 
Steele  whirled  to  face  O'Keefe,  painfully  making  his 
way  toward  him  with  the  aid  of  the  helpful  Ashley. 
Wordless,   fairly  pale  in  his  anger,  Steele  glowered. 


24  [JUNE  GOLD 

''I  couldn't It  wasn't  my  fault,  Mr.  Harrison, 

*dade  an'  it  wasn't,"  stuttered  the  caretaker.  "When 
a  gang  of  felly s  takes  ycr  gun  and  smashes  it  before 
yer  eyes,  and  just  laughs  at  ye  when  ye're  tied  up  like 
a  piece  o'  bedding,  what's  to  do?    Wh-a-a-t — I " 

"Stop  sputtering  and  tell  me  what  happened  !'*  com- 
manded Steele  in  the  tone  of  authority  his  underlings 
so  well  knew — and  feared  should  he  have  cause  to 
use  it. 

"Wh-h-y— er— I '* 

"Have  a  heart,  Steele !  Can't  you  see  the  poor  chap 
needs  a  drink?"  Ashley  giggled.  But  Meade  and 
Cardwell  only  repeated  their  lugubrious  groans  as 
tongues  wet  lips. 

"Shut  up!"  growled  Steele,  and  to  his  caretaker: 
"Well,  O'Keefe?" 

With  a  visible  effort  the  caretaker  shook  himself 
together  and  began  his  tale. 

"  'Twas  but  a  short  time  afther  ye  telyphoned  ye'd 
be  here,  sor,  that  the  first  truck  drove  up,  and " 

"The  first?" 

"Yis,  sor — they  was  five,  and " 

Steele  was  glowering. 

"And  you  let  five  empty  trucks  drive  in  here  and 
dynamite  these  vaults "  he  began. 

"Yis,  sor — I  mean  no,  sor — they  wasn't  impty,  sor. 
iYe'll  find  plinty  of  impty  cases  somewheres  about.    As 


JUNE  GOLD  25 

I  was  sayin',  the  first  bunch  says  as  how  they  have  a 
foine  lot  of  vintage  stuff  to  be  delivered  to  you,  and 
knowin'  as  ye're  bringin'  a  party,  I  thinks  nothin'  of 
it  when  they  begins  to  unload.  Shure,  I  did  begin 
to  think  it  a  bit  strange  as  to  what  ye'd  do  with  so 
much  more  when  the  others  came  along,  but  I  didn't 
get  no  ways  wise  till  I  hears  that  big  bang.  Then  I 
rushes  down  here  with  me  gun,  and  it  happened  just 
as  I'm  tellin'  ye,  sor,  they — they  told  me  to  be  good 
with  my  popgun  and  four-five  of  'em  jumped  me — and 
then  I  couldn't  do  nothin'  till  ye  come " 

*'But  the  rest  of  the  servants?"  Billy  Meade  put  in 
a  question  in  his  quiet  way. 

*'It's  plowing  time,  and  they're  all  at  the  other  end 
of  the  place,  sor " 

The  deadly  gleam  In  Harrison  Steele's  eyes  was 
lessening.  He  looked  at  the  man  who  was  cowering 
before  his  wrath,  though  O'Keefe  had  shown  he  had 
no  lack  of  physical  courage.  The  master's  voice  was 
less  stern  as  he  asked: 

"How  many  men  were  there?*' 

"Tin  or  twelve — I  couldn't  rightly  say *' 

"And  you  braced  those  gunmen  with  your  old  rifle, 
O'Keefe?"  Steele's  face  lighted  with  a  slow  smile. 
"Guess  you  did  your  best  for  a  man  with  no  brains — • 
no  brains — wish  I  could  have  seen  it " 

Ashley  broke  in. 


26  JUNE  GOLD 

"Well,  fellows/'  he  grinned,  "an  exciting  time  was 
apparently  had  by  all.  We  look  like  the  goats,  but, 
offhand  I'd  say  what  we  all  need  right  now  is  a  drink!" 

"Shut  up,  you !"  once  more  growled  Steele. 

"And  the  last  drop  we  brought  from  the  club  gone 
an  hour  ago!''  Grayson  Cardwell  was  getting  in  the 
habit  of  groaning. 

O'Keefe  looked  hesitant  before  he  spoke  again. 

"I  think  I  could  scare  ye  up  a  quart  or  so,  sor," 
he  offered,  but  in  his  eyes  he  showed  that  for  this 
generous  offer  he  expected  further  lashing  from  his 
master. 

"Good  old  scout !"  murmured  Ashley  appreciatively, 
as  he  remembered  at  last  to  brush  his  trousers  knees. 
But  the  smile  that  Steele  started,  slowly  broadened  to 
a  grin. 

"You  old  rascal!"  he  reproved.  "Well,  he's  saved 
us  something  by  holding  out  on  me,  anyway.  Come 
on  boys,  we'll  have  the  wake.  Come  out  of  the  cata- 
combs." 

In  the  dimly-lighted  dining  room  above,  they  gath- 
ered about  the  table  with  funereal  faces  as  O'Keefe 
with  practiced  hands  prepared  their  highballs.  Each 
was  contemplating  how  long  the  small  supply  would 
last.  Suggestions  were  offered  as  to  the  possibility  of 
restocking. 


JUNE  GOLD  27 

"Not  a  chance,"  Steele  told  them  firmly.  ^Tve  al- 
ready found  that  out " 

*'At  least  it's  a  good  thing  you  got  out  of  the 
market  when  you  did,"  reminded  the  ever-comforting 
Ashley.  "You've  got  enough  left,  and  there  are  al- 
ways bootleggers,  you  know " 

Steele  shook  his  head. 

"Oh,  some  of  them  are  safe  enough  if  you  can  pay 
their  price,"  offered  Cardwell  carelessly.  "Why,  I 
know " 

O'Keefe  came  softly  through  the  door  and  as  softly 
spoke  as  though  fearful  of  interrupting  painful  rites. 

"Ye're  wanted  on  the  telyphone,  sor,"  he  whispered. 
"Presbyterian  Hospital,  they  say." 

Steele  rose  quickly,  wondering. 

"Now  what?"  he  commented. 

As  he  opened  the  door  on  his  return,  Cardwell  was 
still  speaking. 

"Now,  this  particular  bootlegger " 

"Boys,"  he  announced  solemnly,  "you  can  cut  out 
the  talk  about  bootleggers — there'll  be  none  for  me 
' — ever !" 

At  the  solemnity  of  his  tone,  his  guests  looked  at 
him  in  surprise. 

"That  call,"  he  explained,  "was  from — about  Henry 
Russel " 

"Russel?"  queried  Meade.     "Anything  wrong?" 


28  JUNE  GOLD 

Henry  Russel  would  have  made  the  fifth  of  the 
present  party  had  they  been  able  to  connect  with  him, 
for  since  student  days,  he,  too,  had  been  one  of  the 
inseparables. 

Steele  made  three  words  of  it. 

"Blind  r  he  said.    "Bootlegger^s  hooch  V 


CHAPTER  III 


"T^LINDr 


Billy  Meade  was  the  first  to  recover  in  the 
awed  silence  that  fell  on  the  group  at  Steele's 
announcement. 

Steele  noded  grimly. 

''Why,  dammit  it  all,"  exploded  Clement  Ashley, 
slamming  his  hand  down  on  the  table  so  that  the 
glasses  tinkled,  "it  simply  can't  be!  There  must  be 
some  mistake!  Why  only  yesterday  I  was  talking 
to  him  and *' 

Steele  sat  down  like  an  old  man.  Every  gesture 
seemed  to  say  that  he  was  tired,  very  tired. 

"And,"  he  finished  slowly  for  Ashley,  "he  probably 
told  you  he  had  found  some  w^onderful  stuff  that  his 
bootlegger  had  got  hold  of.  He  did.  This  morning 
he  was  picked  up  on  the  street  and  taken  to  the  Pres- 
byterian Hospital.  Wood  alcohol — that's  all!  He 
has  only  just  come  around  so  that  he  could  tell  any- 
thing about  himself  or  have  his  friends  notified.  He 
was  one  of  those  who  was  so  sure  of  his  reputable 
source,  too,  Cardwell.  There's  your  bootleggers  for 
you.     When  as  fine  chaps  as  Russel  get  theirs,  it's 

29 


30  JUNE  GOLD 

about  time  the  prohibitionists  were  satisfied/*  he  added 
bitterly,  as  he  turned  the  remaining  portion  of  his 
own  drink  around  and  around  in  his  glass. 

"One  of  the  finest,"  mourned  Meade.  "Of  course, 
we'll  do  all  we  can  for  him,  but,"  and  he  glanced  up 
at  the  big  broker  slouching  in  his  chair,  his  attitude 
anything  but  that  which  might  have  been  expected  of 
the  man  who  was  prepared  to  be  chief  celebrant  at 
his  own  retirement  from  a  business  that  was  fast  mak- 
ing little  ones  out  of  the  big  ones  which  were  credited 
to  his  bank  account,  "but  anything  we  can  do  won't 
solve  our  own  problem.  Looks  like  a  warning,  eh, 
boys?" 

"What  about  it,  Steele?"  queried  Ashley,  the  so- 
lemnity of  his  own  countenance  a  record  of  his  feel- 
ings. "You  say  you  won't  fall  for  the  bootleg — what 
you  going  to  do?    Go  on  the  water  wagon?" 

Steele  reached  for  the  bell. 

"Might  as  well  bring  on  that  last  quart  you  cached, 
O'Keefe,"  he  told  his  man  servant,  before  he  answered 
Ashley.  Then,  as  the  door  closed:  "Hell,  no!  The/ 
can't  get  away  with  it " 

Ashley's  irrepressible  grin  lightened  the  gloom  of 
his  face. 

"Looks  like  tliey'd  made  a  good  start,"  he  mur- 
mured.   "Think  you  can  catch  'em?" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  talking  about  my  own  stuff — that's 


JUNE  GOLD  31 

gone — hope  I've  sense  enough  to  know  it!  I  mean 
those  idiots  who  are  trying  to  tell  me  what  I  shall 
drink  or  not  drink  when  and  where  and  as  often  as 

I  like "     The  set  of  his  square  jaw  and  the  lips 

that  were  a  mere  line,  showed  that  the  Steele  stub- 
bornness was  on  the  surface.  *'Don*t  know  how  just 
yet,  but  there  must  be  some  way " 

In  silence  as  befitted  the  occasion,  the  group  took 
the  drink  that  O'Keefe  poured  for  them.  With  all 
ceremony  glasses  were  lifted  in  a  mournful  wordless 
toast.  Grayson  Cardwell  drew  his  lean  long  figure  up 
from  his  chair  at  the  table  and  for  a  few  moments 
paced  the  floor,  his  eyes  downcast  as  though  his 
thoughts  were  heavy  ones.  At  the  window  he  stopped 
and  his  unseeing  glance  wandered  out  over  the  wide 
lawn  in  its  spring  greenery,  now  lightly  touched  by 
the  soft  beams  of  the  new  moon.  Then,  without  turn- 
ing to  face  his  companions,  who  sat  glumly  in  front 
of  the  last  bottle  of  Steele's  wonderful  store  of  liquids, 
he  spoke,  slowly,  carefully,  as  if  not  quite  sure  of 
how  his  suggestion  might  be  taken. 

''There  is  a  way,"  he  hesitated — "if  you're  game 
enough  to  take  a  chance." 

"As  if  chance  was  not  our  middle  name,"  scoffed 
Ashley,  while  Meade  smiled  superiorly. 

''Well?"  Steele  looked  up  inquiringly.  Cardwell 
turned  to  face  them. 


32  JUNE  GOLD 

"You  have  a  yacht,"  he  insinuated,  "and  as  I  under- 
stand it,  a  sailing  master  who  thinks  you're  one  of 
the  royal  family,  and — and,"  again  he  hesitated  as 
inquiring  glances  were  leveled  at  him,  "aren't  Ber- 
muda and  the  Bahamas  full  of  real  stuff,  every  bit 
as  good  as  our  late  visitors  carried  away?" 

His  bomb  exploded,  Cardwell  waited  to  see  how 
the  suggestion  would  be  taken.  Steele  flushed  slowly 
as  it  sank  in. 

"I  may  have  done  a  great  many  things,  but  I  don't 
believe  I've  ever  been  a  criminal,"  he  commented, 
but  there  was  a  shiftiness  about  his  glance  that  showed 
a  half  shame-facedness — that  he  was  even  debating 
the  matter. 

Cardwell  moved  closer  to  the  table. 

"If  you  were  not  afraid  of  bootleggers  and  wood 
alcohol  you'd  buy  their  stuff,  wouldn't  you?"  he  shot 
at  his  host. 

"That's  different,"  cut  in  Clement  Ashley.  "Every- 
body's doing  it " 

"Everybody  doesn't  own  a  yacht!"  snapped  Card- 
well.  "Now  look  at  this  thing  fairly,  Steele,"  he  went 
on,  and  he  dropped  into  the  chair  he  had  vacated  and 
leaned  across  the  table  to  emphasize  his  points. 
"You've  got  to  have  liquor — or  are  you  willing  to  give 
up  and  admit  yourself  beaten?"  Grayson  Cardwell 
knew  his  man;  knew  that  on  no  other  point  was  he 


JUNE   GOLD  33 

so  vulnerable.  Steele  squared  his  shoulders  to  speak, 
but  it  was  Meade  who  broke  in. 

'They  don't  send  you  to  Federal  prison — 
often "  he  remarked,  ''for  buying  from  bootleg- 
gers, and  there  must  be  some '* 

"There  are  none  for  me!"  snapped  Steele.  "Even 
before  I  heard  about  Russel,  I  had  learned  enough. 
And  I'm  not  talking  about  wood  alcohol  only.  There's 
that  denatured  stuff,  and  they  don't  always  get  all 
the  formald'ehyde  out.  A  little  formaldehyde  w^on't 
kill  you  the  first  or  the  second  time,  but  just  keep  it 
up  and  see  what  happens !  Reminds  me  of  the  motto 
I  once  saw  on  an  old  sun  dial — not  a  very  cheerful 
thing — 'Viilnerant  ornnes,  ultima  necatf' 

"Take  the  head  of  the  class,"  urged  Ashley,  bowing 
deeply.  "Wouldn't  have  believed  it!  Now^  my  Latin 
— translate,  please.  Professor!" 

The  lightness  of  his  friend's  tone  in  no  w^ise  lessened 
Steele's  seriousness,  but  he  went  on  as  though  explain- 
ing to  a  small  boy:  "A  good  thing  for  you  to  keep  in 
mind,  son — 'They  all  wound;  the  last  one  kills.'  No, 
sir,  I'm  off  the  bootleg.  Here,"  and  he  reached  into 
a  vest  pocket  and  drew  out  a  folded  clipping.  "Came 
across  this  the  other  day,  and  saved  it — thought  I 
might  need  it  w^ith  some  such  ignoramuses  as  you. 
You  read  it — aloud — Meade,"  offering  the  paper 
which  the  other  took  and  spread  out  under  the  rays 


34  JUNE  GOLD 

of  the  electric  globe  which  O'Keefe  had  switched  on 
on  his  last  visit 

"  'Of  the  1,500  samples  of  confiscated  moonshine  recently 
analyzed  by  the  State  Food  and  Drug  Department/  "  he  read, 
*  "not  more  than  twenty-five  samples  were  found  free  from 
poison.  It  is  the  condition  surrounding  the  manufacture 
that  introduces  the  element  of  danger.  Illicit  stills  are 
hidden  in  thickets,  fields,  old  out-houses,  barns,  dirty  tene- 
ment rooms  and  vermin-filled  cellars.  The  containers  often 
are  old  barrels  which,  after  repeated  use,  are  foul  and  ill- 
smelling. 

''  'The  unprotected,  fermenting  mixture  attracts  animal 
life  such  as  flies,  cockroaches,  mice,  rats,  bugs  and  insects 
of  every  description.  They  often  die  in  it.  In  many  in- 
stances, the  stills  are  only  common  boilers  covered  with  filthy 
blankets  in  which  alcoholic  vapors  are  retained  and  wrung 
out  into  bottles.  Frequently  old  torn-up  mattresses  furnish 
the  necessary  cotton  for  straining  the  finished  product 

**Ugh!"  Fastidious  Ashley  shivered  so  that  the 
ripples  in  his  silk  shirt  were  plain.  ''Lay  off,  Brother 
Anderson — ^have  a  heart!  Almost  thou  persuadest 
me 

"Very  good!'*  declared  Grayson  Cardwell.  "Ad- 
mitted !  Now,"  and  once  more  he  turned  to  Steele  and 
his  eyes  searched  those  of  his  friend  keenly,  "what 
are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  Are  you  going  to  let 
them  get  away  with  it?" 

As  though  the  last  words  were  the  goad  too  much, 
Harrison  Steele  leapt  to  his  feet  and  his  big  fist 
whanged  down  on  the  table  with  its  empty  bottle  and 
glasses. 


JUNE  GOLD  35 

*'No,  by  Jumping  Jupiter,"  he  shouted.     "I  won't !" 

Clem  Ashley  licked  his  lips  anticipatorily  and  his 
boyish  grin  spread  across  his  small  face.  "Atta  boy  !'* 
he  comm.anded.     ''When  do  we  start?" 

"Shut  up!"  This  time  it  was  Cardwell's  voice  that 
commanded.  Then,  turning  to  the  others,  he  went 
on  eagerly.  "I've  thought  it  all  out — it  came  to  me 
while  I  was  watching  that  moon  lighting  up  the  lawn 
out  there — sailing  along  so  calmly.  You  know  that 
hunting  preserv^e  of  mine  down  on  the  North  Carolina 
coast — I've  asked  you  all  to  come  down  with  me  more 
than  once,  but  you've  never  found  time.  It's  near  a 
little  seaport  town  called  Swansboro,  but  it's  the  wild- 
est spot  you  can  well  imagine.  It's  on  part  of  a  strip 
of  land  called  Bogue  Island  that  is  separated  from  the 
mainland,  and  I've  kept  it  up  the  year  round  for  I've 
never  known  when  I  wanted  to  drop  down  there  for 
a  bit  of  shooting  or  surf  fishing.  That's  where  we'll 
head  for  first.  It  can  be  given  out  that  we  are  going 
down  for  a  shooting  and  fishing  trip,  and  the  yacht 
down  in  the  Florida  waters  will  never  be  even  thought 
of,  especially  as  we'll  charter  a  hydroplane  and  fly 
down " 

"My  sacred  grandmother!"  wailed  Ashley.  "No 
wonder  you  asked  us  if  we  were  game.  Next !"  And 
he  subsided  with  a  sigh  as  Cardwell  glowered  at  him, 
and  went  on  with  his  plans. 


36  JUNE  GOLD 

*'Don*t  you  see  how  it  will  work  out?  We  stop  off 
at  the  hunting  lodge  for  a  day  or  two  which  will  give 
Steele's  sailing  master  time  to  prepare  for  a  voyage, 

and "  and  he  looked  about  him  with  a  grin  as 

though  what  he  was  to  add  would  clinch  the  matter, 
*'and  I  don't  think  any  thieving  bootleggers  have  been 
able  to  drive  any  trucks  over  to  Bogue  Island  yet " 

Little  Ashley  revived.  A  slow  grin  of  anticipation 
spread  over  the  faces  of  Steele  and  Billy  Meade. 

"Where'll  we  catch  the  flying  boat?"  queried  the 
former. 

*'I  think  I  can  manage  that,"  was  Meade's  contribu- 
tion. **Know  a  chap  who  has  one — was  in  France 
with  him — wonderful  flying  record  and  all  that — can 
be  depended  on,  too,  when  it  comes  to  keeping  a 
secret." 

"Get  him !"  Steele  became  the  commanding  general. 
**No  time  like  the  present,"  he  added  firmly.  "I'm 
ready  to  start  any  time." 

"Can't  you  give  me  time  to  change  my  pants?" 
Ashley  looked  wonderingly  about  him  with  injured 
innocence,  but  the  others  pretended  not  to  notice  him. 

Steele  glanced  ruefully  at  the  empty  bottles  and 
glasses  on  the  shining  mahogany  table. 

"No  use  staying  here,"  he  remarked  with  a  trace  of 
bitterness.  "We  can  make  arrangements  at  the  club 
better."     His  hand  went  to  the  bell,  and  as  O'Keefe, 


'  JUNE  GOLD  37 

suspiciously  alacritous,  appeared,  he  ordered  that  the 
car  be  brought  for  them  without  delay. 

*'Which  may  be  just  as  well,  if  ye'll  pardon  me  for 
sayin'  so,  sor,"  O'Keefe  told  him.  'Tor  it  do  be 
lookin'  as  though  dinner  would  be  a  long  time  comin', 
what  with  the  ould  woman  comin'  out  of  her  sleep 
so  hysterical,  sor,  and  callin'  on  all  the  saints  and 
angels  to  protect  her " 

Steele  smiled  ruefully.  "You  can  assure  Mrs. 
O'Keefe  she  need  have  no  further  fear.  There's  no 
further  cause  here  for  raiders." 

It  was  past  midnight  when  Billy  ]\Ieade  finally 
emerged  from  the  telephone  booth  where  he  had  spent 
most  of  the  evening  after  reaching  the  club  to  which 
Steele  had  taken  them,  and  announced  to  the  listen- 
ing men  that  everything  was  all  right. 

"Thought  I  could  locate  Don  Baldwin  without  any 
trouble,"  he  told  them,  "but  I've  had  to  put  through 
more  long-distance  calls  than  Steele  ever  did  when  he 
thought  he  had  a  winner.  Got  him  up  along  the 
Massachusetts  coast,  though,  and  he's  already  started. 
He'll  be  ready  for  us  to-morrow  morning  all  right, 
and  have  a  chance  to  snatch  a  few  winks,  too." 

"Of  course,  you  told  him  he'd  be  well  paid,  and, 

er — er "     Steele  was  a  little  embarrassed,  for  him 

a  strange  phenomenon, 

Meade  grinned. 


S8  JUNE  GOLD 

"Don't  know  that  that  would  have  much  to  do  with 
Don's  taking  up  the  thing,"  he  said,  as  his  hand  went 
out  for  the  drink  a  club  steward  offered  in  the  same 
manner  he  had  offered  the  same  refreshment  so  many 
times  before  the  laws  of  his  country  proclaimed  he 
should  not,  "Don's  keen  for  the  sport  of  the  thing. 
He  don't  know  what's  up,  of  course,  but  whatever  it 
is,  he's  for  it,  and  you  can  depend  on  him." 

"And  as  for  the  other,"  Cardwell  spoke  decisively, 
"of  course  we'll  all  chip  in,  and " 

"Of  course,  we'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind !"  Harrison 
Steele  sat  up  straight  in  the  deep  leather-cushioned 
chair  in  which  he  had  been  lolling  and  looked  belliger- 
ently about  him.  "This  is  my  party — as  far  as  any 
paying  is  concerned — just  understand  that.  I  got  you 
fellows  in  a  hole  when  I  thought  so  much  of  A.  R.  M. 
as  a  plaything,  and  you  wouldn't  let  me  make  good. 
I'm  at  least  entitled  to  pay  for  the  celebration  party 
I  promised !" 

Clement  Ashley  spread  his  hands  wide  in  a  gesture 
of  acceptance  and  shrugged  his  small  shoulders. 

"Then  everything's  settled,  I  take  it?"  was  his 
query.    "Except  changing  my  pants?" 

"You  can  change  'em  in  the  morning  while  I  go 
to  the  bank,"  Steele  soothed.  "Don't  believe  they'd 
take  checks  in  Bermuda  or  wherever  we're  going; 
don't  believe  I  want  to  leave  one  behind  me." 


JUNE  GOLD  39 

The  bright  sun  of  a  May  morning  was  touching  the 
spires  and  prismatic  windowed  sky-scrapers  with 
gilded  designs  as  the  bird-Hke  hydroplane  with  its  party 
of  five  rose  lightly  out  of  the  gently  lapping  waves 
of  the  Hudson  and  soared  high  up  past  the  Statue 
of  Liberty.  From  the  distance,  the  mass  of  steel  and 
granite  that  made  of  Wall  Street  a  cavern  of  gloom 
even  in  the  bright  sunshine,  could  be  discerned  by  the 
men  who  had  so  recently  seen  small  fortunes  flit  away 
in  its  environs.  From  their  height,  it  all  now  seemed 
unreal,  something  that  might  have  happened  long  ago, 
hardly  remembered. 

From  the  start,  they  had  been  silent.  Each  was 
busy  with  his  own  thoughts;  some  that  would  not 
have  borne  easily  the  light  of  general  discussion.  As 
usual  it  was  Ashley  who  could  no  longer  restrain 
himself. 

*Too  bad  we  couldn't  wait  for  the  noon  editions," 
he  said.  "You  see  those  reporter  chaps  waiting  around 
wanting  to  know?  They'll  have  a  fine  yarn,  won't 
they  ?    Can't  you  see  it  ? 

HUNTERS   VIE  WITH  GAME  THEY  SEEK. 


Well-know  Brokers,  Caught  in  the 

Rise  of  A.  R.  M.  Fly  Away  to 

Catch  Surer  Game. 


40  JUNE  GOLD 

"How's  that,  eh?  Always  knew  I'd  missed  my  call- 
ing!" 

"Hmph!"  Steele  smiled  somberly.  "Anything 
that  called  you'd  stop  mighty  short  w^hen  they  saw 
you.     Did  you  change  your  pants?" 

Past  the  Statue  of  Liberty,  past  the  vast  hulks  that 
marked  the  anchorage  of  the  hundreds  of  ships  in  the 
wide  harbor  that  lay  more  and  more  bluely  in  front 
of  them,  past  the  tip  end  of  the  island  with  its  sky- 
reaching  architecture  growing  down  to  the  very  edge 
of  the  bay,  there  to  drop  off  in  a  line,  sheerly,  the 
hydroplane  and  its  freight  of  adventurers  flew,  soar- 
ing higher  and  higher. 

A  dim  cloud  came  before  the  vision  of  Harrison 
Steele  as  his  eyes  stared  at  the  great  height  of  the 
Woolworth  building  with  its  myriad  windows  touched 
by  the  sun.  Through  that  cloud,  the  pile  of  granite 
turned  gray.  The  windows  were  barred  and  narrow 
and  high.  The  vision  of  the  Federal  Prison  as  he 
had  once  seen  it  at  Atlanta  was  complete.  It  was  with 
a  suppressed  shudder  that  he  turned  to  stare  down  the 
bay  where  the  wider  waters  of  Sandy  Hook  could 
just  be  discerned.  The  sun  was  shining  there.  There 
were  no  clouds.  With  a  half  smothered  sigh  he  sub- 
sided in  his  seat,  clutching  the  holding  belt.  The 
world  was  fair.    The  motion  was  delightful.    Fiercely 


JUNE  GOLD  41 

he  told  himself  he  was  right  In  making  this  adventure 
which  would  prove  him  a  man  to  whom  no  other  man 
could  say  nay.  He  would  enjoy  it  now,  at  any  rate. 
For  as  yet  there  had  been  nothing  done  that  savored 
of  outlawry. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THEOPHILUS  LOPSTROP  HUMPHREY 
leaned  his  rifle  against  the  trunk  of  a  live  oak 
tree  and  turned  to  gaze  across  the  inlet  to  the 
island  that  lay  between  him  and  the  wide  spread  of  the 
Atlantic  beyond.  One  brow^n  sinewed  hand  shaded 
his  gray  eyes  with  their  overhanging  growth  of  gray- 
ing, bushy  eyebrows  as  the  still  keen  gaze  of  the  rangy 
old  man  swept  the  wooded  island  with  its  mass  of 
tropical  growth.  The  slant  of  the  sun  near  its 
meridian  touched  a  fresh-water  lakelet  hidden  in  the 
tangled  cluster  of  live  oaks,  bay  trees,  and  under- 
growth of  lesser  evergreens,  vines  and  semi-tropical 
verdure  that  made  of  the  island  all  but  a  jungle,  hard 
for  anything  but  creeping  things  to  penetrate ;  it  flung 
its  mirror-like  shafts  across  the  inlet.  Humphrey, 
watching  from  beneath  shaded  brows,  saw  a  few 
specks  of  black  circling  above  it,  and  grunted  as  he 
.watched. 

"Hmph!"  he  snorted.  "Poor  fools  !'^  His  eyes 
never  wavered  from  the  belated  straggling  wild  ducks 
who  were  seeking  to  form  themselves  into  a  flock  in- 
tent on  joining  their  more  enterprising  brothers  who 

42 


JUNE  GOLD  43 

had  journeyed  a  month  or  more  since  to  Northern 
climes.  "Consam  ef  I  can  see  why  ye  want  to  leave," 
he  apostrophized.  "Consarn  ef  I  can  see  why  any- 
body or  anything  wants  to  be  a-travelin'  all  the  time. 
God  A'mighty  never  meant  fer  critters  to  be  always 
a-movin'." 

As  a  brief  index  to  Theophilus  Lopstrop  Hum- 
phrey's character,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  the  old 
hunter  who  gazed  out  over  the  North  Carolina  land 
and  seascape  on  this  May  morning,  put  well  into  prac- 
tice what  he  preached.  Theophilus  Lopstrop  Humph- 
rey did  not  believe  much  in  moving;  what  moves  he 
made  were  for  the  most  part  made  that  he  might 
slightly  change  his  place  of  resting. 

"Poor  fools !"  he  repeated,  as  his  half  pitying  gaze 
took  in  the  stragglers'  efforts.  "Why  can't  ye  be  sen- 
sible. Wild  oats  a  plenty  in  them  ponds,  but  ye  got  to 
be  up  and  goin'  some  place.  But  I  'low  ye'U  be  back 
when  ye're  wanted."  His  shaggy  gray  head  shook 
sagely.  "An'  I'll  not  have  to  watch  after  ye  when 
ye're  gone." 

Standing  there,  drawn  up  to  his  full  height  as  he 
watched,  it  would  have  been  hard  to  believe  that 
Humphrey  was  a  man  past  sixty.  Old  Theo  would 
have  made  glad  the  heart  of  any  apostle  of  the  open 
air,  for  his  sturdiness  and  strength  were  those  of  a 
man  in  his  prime,  that  prime  only  belied  by  the  gray 


44  JUNE  GOLD 

of  eyebrows  and  hair,  something  in  the  loose- 
jointed  movement  of  his  great  hands  and  feet,  and  in 
the  scattered  crows'  feet  that  puckered  above  his  high 
cheek  bones.  For  more  than  sixty  years,  the  hot  sun 
and  shifting  winds  of  the  North  Carolina  coast  had 
been  busy  making  those  crows'  feet  in  the  countenance 
of  Theophilus  Humphrey.  His  home  had  been  in  the 
open  air;  his  work  and  play  and  leisure  with  gun  and 
rod  and  boat. 

Had  anyone  mentioned  the  word  "shiftless,"  now, 
though,  he  would  have  been  favored  with  old  Theo's 
most  glowering  glance.  Old  Theo  was  a  worker.  He 
would  have  told  you  so.  He  was  working  now.  Was 
he  not  keeping  an  eye  out  on  the  hunting  preserve  of 
a  rich  New  Yorker  who  trusted  him  to  see  that  no 
poacher  penetrated  through  that  island  jungle  to  carry 
off  prizes  of  wild  hog,  or  deer  or  w^ild  goat,  or  what 
not? 

It  was  strenuous  work.  Humphrey  opened  his 
huge  mouth  in  a  wide  yawn  as  the  fool  birds  circled 
away  to  the  northward. 

"Reckon  dinner  must  be  most  ready,"  he  observ^ed, 
with  a  final  squint  at  the  slowly  moving  sun. 
Leisurely,  as  befitted  one  whose  duty  well  done  has 
earned  the  right,  the  tall  old  man  reached  for  his  rifle 
and  turned  to  climb  further  up  the  knoll  at  the  top 
of  which  set  his  rambling  white-washed  house  with 


JUNE  GOLD  45 

its  scaling  clapboarded  walls  and  sagging  porch — a 
house  with  an  outlook  that  took  in  at  one  sweep  the 
whole  of  the  surrounding  country;  from  which  could 
be  seen  the  stretch  of  high  piled  sand  dunes  broken 
only  by  clumps  of  bear  grass  on  the  ocean  side  of  the 
island,  the  wooded  strip  itself,  and  its  dividing  inlet; 
the  higher  "hammock"  ground  of  the  mainland,  dot- 
ted with  scattering  houses,  white  in  the  softening  dis- 
tance, but  scaling  and  white-washed  like  Humphrey's 
own  domicile,  on  nearer  view — houses  perched  on 
knolls,  houses  hidden  in  groves  of  bay  and  live  oak 
trees — houses  that  sheltered  other  **progers"  like 
Theophilus  Humphrey.  For  this  was  the  proger  sec- 
tion of  progressive  North  Carolina,  and  not  even  the 
most  progressive  of  them  all  has  yet  found  another 
name  than  proger  for  those  particular  North  Caroli- 
nians who  have  earned  the  colloquial  distinctive  by  their 
habits  of  earning  a  more  or  less  precarious  living 
through  hunting  a  little,  fishing  and  trapping  a  little, 
and  when  it  can't  be  helped,  putting  in  a  crop  a  little. 
Typical  proger  was  Theophilus  Humphrey,  but  for 
two  years  now  he  had  been  able  to  lord  it  over  his 
fellow  progers,  for  he  was  receiving  actual  cash  for 
doing  what  he  loved  best  to  do — ever  since  he  had  be- 
come chief  guide,  advisor  plenipotentiary  and  keeper 
of  the  preserve  which  a  Northerner,  a  man  called 
Grayson  Cardwell,  had  purchased  down  on  that  North 


46  JUNE   GOLD 

Carolina  coast  and  which  stretched  as  far  as  eye  could 
reach  before  the  old  man's  vision  as  he  sat  on  his  pine 
board,  vine-covered  porch. 

Keen  as  his  youthful  old  eyes  were,  however,  there 
was  something  now  in  that  tree  and  underbrush- 
covered  island  across  from  him  that  he  had  failed  to 
notice.  Something — someone — stirred  in  a  clump  of 
half -grown  trees,  curtained  with  newly  gray-green 
long-trailing  Spanish  moss.  As  the  old  guide  bent  his 
footsteps  toward  his  home  on  the  knoll,  a  face  peered 
cautiously  out  at  the  retreating  figure.  It  was  a  fine 
old  face,  benignant  beneath  the  aureole  of  long  white 
hair  that  framed  the  pinkish  cheeks.  But  across  it,  as 
he  gazed,  there  flitted  a  look  of  annoyed  intolerance. 
One  hand,  visible  as  it  held  aside  the  screening  moss, 
motioned  some  other  to  caution. 

"Dagged  old  proger,"  muttered  the  owner  of  the 
silver  aureole.  "Thinks  he  owns  the  earth.  Reckon 
he's  gone  to  dinner,  Ira,"  he  went  on  to  his  unseen  com- 
panion.   "Reckon  we  can  be  moseying." 

A  second  face  peered  through  the  moss  screen. 

"He's  hell  with  that  there  old  rifle  of  his'n.  Uncle 
Billy  Peter,"  complained  the  second  man — or  youth, 
rather,  did  one  take  into  account  years  only,  for  his 
wizened  face  proclaimed  he  had  lived  years  beyond  his 
time — not  well-spent  years.  "Seems  a  feller  can't  git 
nothin'  to  eat  by  rights  any  more  sense  old  Theo  got 


JUNE  GOLD  47 

his  license."  From  beside  him,  the  second  man  lifted 
up  a  freshly  killed  young  marsh  hen  which  he  hur- 
riedly stuffed  under  his  worn  coat.  "Wall,  he  kain't 
always  git  away  with  it,"  he  declared,  as  he  bent  low 
to  snoop,  Indian  fashion,  through  the  tall  marsh  grass 
that  would  hide  him  from  watchful  eyes. 

The  sudden  sneer  and  narrowing  eyes  in  the  face  of 
the  elder  man  proclaimed  his  apparent  benignancy  but 
a  snare  and  a  delusion. 

"I've  alius  had  what  I  wanted  to  eat  offen  this  here 
island,"  he  commented,  "and  I  proposes  to  keep  on — 
spite  of  any  rich  man  from  the  North'ard.  Effen  it 
hadn't  a  been  fer  him  I'd  a-fixed  that  consarned  old 
Theo  long  ago " 

"  'Low  he'll  fix  we'uns  now.  Uncle  Billy,  effen  we 
don't  mosey,"  reminded  the  other,  with  a  backward 
glance  at  the  temerity  of  Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis 
who  had  come  out  in  the  open  to  shake  his  tightly 
clenched  fist  at  the  back  of  Theophilus  Humphrey. 
But,  with  the  reminder,  discretion  came,  and  the  white- 
haired  old  man  who  had  spent  the  morning  poaching 
on  Grayson  Cardwell's  cherished  preserve,  with  only 
one  small  marsh  hen  to  reward  him — thanks  to  the 
watchfulness  of  the  New  Yorker's  guide — ^bent  over 
and  sneaked  through  the  tall  grass  and  undergrowth. 
It  was  a  most  undignified  exit  for  the  richest  man  in 
the  proger  district — a  man  who,  until  Cardwell's  ap- 


48  JUNE   GOLD 

pearance,  had  long  held  a  mortgage  over  the  head  o£ 
the  but  slightly  protesting  Humphrey — but  then,  It  was 
a  necessity.  Billy  Peter  Willis,  rich  man,  and  "stin- 
giest soul  the  good  Lord  ever  let  live,"  was  content. 
He  once  more  had  something  for  nothing;  even  if  it 
was  only  a  marsh  chicken. 

Worn  by  the  exertion  of  his  walk  from  his  vantage 
point  down  the  hill  to  his  house  (all  of  a  hundred 
yards  or  more)  old  Theo  Humphrey  dropped  down 
into  a  splint-seated  chair  when  he  reached  the  shelter- 
ing porch.  His  rifle  he  propped  against  the  clap- 
boarded  wall  behind  him.  His  gaze  wandered  seaward 
— past  the  inlet  and  the  island.  Another  black  specie 
claimed  his  attention.  Funny  thing,  that — couldn*t  be 
a  gull — too  black.  Must  be  a  stray  duck  just  a-flock- 
ing  by  itself.  Humphrey  chuckled  at  the  aptness  of 
his  own  expression.  But  the  black  speck  was  getting 
larger — it  was  coming  nearer.    It  was  taking  form. 

Theo  Humphrey  lifted  his  voice  in  an  excited  shout. 

"Lory!"  he  demanded,  "Come  on  out  here,  girl. 
I'm  consarned  ef  I  don't  think  here's  another  of  them 
airship  things  comin'  along !  My  land  o'  livin',  but 
what  are  we  comin'  to!  People  flying  tlirough  the 
air  jes  like  ducks!" 

In  the  doorway  behind  the  old  man  a  girl  appeared. 
Only  a  casual  glance  was  needed  to  prove  her  his 
daughter.    There  was  something  about  the  gray  of  the 


JUNE  GOLD  49 

eyes  and  their  shape  that  was  unmistakable  even 
though  the  girl's  own  eyes  were  big  and  wide  with  the 
eagerness  of  youth.  But  there,  all  resembance  stopped. 
For  refinement  of  feature  and  delicate  coloring,  Lora 
Humphrey  might  well  have  been  the  carefully  nur- 
tured product  of  a  hothouse  civilization,  instead  of  a 
daughter  of  the  hommocks,  unless  one  took  into  ac- 
count the  health  that  was  fairly  vibrant  through  her 
slender  young  body.  Nor  was  she  the  slattern  that 
one  might  have  expected  after  a  casual  visit  to  those 
other  homes  which  dotted  the  landscape  before  her. 
In  her  crisply  starched  yellow  gingham  bungalow 
apron  that  threw  into  relief  the  dusk  of  her  softly 
curling  hair,  she  might  have  stepped  direct  from  the 
pages  of  one  of  the  magazines  that  lay  scattered  in 
used  confusion  on  a  small  pine  table  at  one  end  of  the 
slanting  porch.  But  that  she  was  not  for  picture  pur- 
poses only  was  proven  by  the  dish  cloth  she  held  in  one 
hand,  evidently  forgotten  in  her  hurry  to  answer  her 
father's  hail. 

"Did  you  say  an  airship,  pap?"  she  inquired  eagerly. 
"Where?  Oh,  I  do  wish  they'd  come  by  here  oftener 
— they  make  me  dream  such  dreams  of  other  people 
and  things " 


"Hmmph!"  snorted  old  Theo.  "Time  ye  was  fer- 
gittin'  about  all  them  things,  I'll  be  bound.  'Pears  like 
sending  ye  to  the  west'ard  to  school,  and  then  lettin' 


50  JUNE  GOLD 

ye  go  a-nursin'  through  the  war  time  has  jest  about 
spi'lt  ye  for  hvin  in  the  hammocks " 

"Oh,  father — er,  pap,  I  mean "  Lora  Humphrey 

unwillingly  substituted  the  diminutive  of  the  hom- 
mocks  country  people  upon  which  her  father  insisted. 
"Don't  you  ever  have  a  thought  you'd  sometime  like 
to  go  out  of  the  hammocks — to  where  people  live — do 
things?" 

"Hmmph!"  Old  Theo's  snort  was  more  emphatic. 
"God  A'mighty  never  intended  his  human  critters  to 
be  alius  a-travelin'  around.  Eff  en  He  did,  he'd  a  give 
'em  wings " 

"Well,  He's  taught  them  how  to  make  wings  for 
themselves,  hasn't  He?"  retorted  the  girl,  as  she  flung 
the  dish  cloth  over  the  back  of  a  chair  and  ran  down 
the  ricketty  porch  steps.     "Where's  the  airship?" 

Humphrey  pointed  to  the  black  spot  that  in  the  last 
few  moments  had  approached  so  close  that  its  outline 
and  the  black  dots  of  passengers  were  clearly  visible. 
Lora  turned  to  fling  him  an  excited  invitation. 

"Come  on  down  to  the  wharf,  pap,"  she  cried.  "We 
can  see  it  better  there — why,  I  do  believe  it's  coming 
this  way !"  Her  rounded  brown  arm  went  up  to  shade 
the  gray  eyes,  no  less  keen  than  her  father's,  as  she 
watched  the  plane  that  slowly  began  to  circle  and  in 
each  wide  sweep  came  closer  and  closer  to  the  earth. 

The  old  man  demurred.     Not  even  the  appearance 


JUNE  GOLD  51 

of  the  all  too  occasional  flying  machine  (and  there  had 
been  several  to  pass  his  ocean-front  doorway  since  the 
war)  could  long  keep  him  from  a  consideration  of  his 
usual  routine. 

"I  want  my  dinner/*  he  complained,  frowning  at 
the  oncoming  plane.    "I'm  hungry !" 

"Oh,  come  on,  pap!  Be  a  sport!  You  can  eat  the 
rest  of  the  day!"  urged  the  girl. 

With  some  reluctance,  Theophilus  Lopstrop  Hum- 
phrey got  lumberingly  to  his  big  feet  to  follow  his 
daughter  whose  own  flying  white-shod  feet  were  carry- 
ing her  swiftly  down  to  the  small  planked  space  reach- 
ing out  into  the  waters  of  the  inlet  and  which  she 
and  her  father  were  pleased  to  designate  as  the  wharf, 
since  it  was  here  that  their  three  small  skiffs  and  one 
flat-bottomed  duck  boat  were  tied. 

Raptly  the  girl  gazed  skyward.  The  big  machine 
was  making  such  wide  swoops  as  it  circled,  now  soar- 
ing a  moment,  now  almost  touching  the  water,  that  her 
heart  was  in  her  throat  as  she  watched,  her  hands 
clasped  tightly  as  she  eagerly  marveled  at  the  skill  that 
made  it  possible  for  man  to  fly.  By  the  time  old 
Theo's  more  leisurely  progress  had  brought  him  to 
her  side  on  the  little  wharf,  the  big  man-bird  was 
abreast  of  them.  They  saw  the  four  men  passengers, 
with  their  protecting  belts,  and  the  pilot  who  looked 
neither  to  right  or  left  but  kept  his  eyes  straight  before 


52  JUNE  GOLD 

him  as  he  steered  the  huge  machine.     Hails  came  to 
them.     They  could  make  out  words. 

"Hallo,  there,  Humphrey !"  yelled  a  voice. 

"Well,  I'm  consamed!"  All  the  old  guide's  apathy 
was  gone.  "Ef  it  hain't  that  Cardwell !  A-flyin'  here 
when  the  duck's  are  all  a-flying  the  other  way.  Won- 
der what  he  wants  in  May !" 

Lora  Humphrey  was  not  listening.  Her  eyes  were 
fastened  on  the  flying  boat  and  the  pilot  whose  grim 
white  face  she  had  seen  as  the  boat  made  its  last  low 
circle.  Up,  up  went  the  machine,  but  it  careened  like 
a  wild  thing  as  It  whirred  above  them,  and  she  could 
see  the  men  cling  to  their  belts  as  it  righted  Itself.  The 
put-put  of  the  motor  and  Its  stuttering  stops  told  even 
her  little-experienced  ears  that  something  had  sud- 
denly gone  wrong.  Her  strong  little  brown  hands 
went  upward  as  though  In  a  futile  effort  to  help  the 
big  machine  that  wobbled  from  side  to  side,  then  came 
down  to  clutch  at  her  father's  arm. 

"Oh,  pap!"  she  wailed.    "They'll " 

Once  more  the  hydroplane  righted  itself  as  Don 
gritted  his  teeth  and  flung  his  body  over  to  balance  it 
by  sheer  material  weight.  It  was  coming  down  again. 
The  engine  gave  a  sickening  cough  and  went  dead. 
Like  the  pointed  nose  of  a  retriever  in  full  tilt,  the 
machine  sought  the  water.  But  its  angle  was  too 
sharp.     Don  was  tugging  at  the  wheel  which  did  not 


JUNE  GOLD  53 

respond  any  more  than  did  the  biceps  of  the  old  man 
which  were  clutched  in  a  panicky  grip  by  the  girl  who 
huddled  at  his  side.  Down !  Down !  For  a  moment 
it  seemed  to  straighten  itself  out  a  bit.  Would  they 
make  it?  Lora  Humphrey  and  her  father  could  see 
the  passengers  who  had  realized  their  danger  hurriedly 
pulling  at  their  belts  as  their  pilot  tugged  at  his  wheel. 
Another  second!  One  more  closer  to  eternity.  The 
air  that  was  cut  by  the  flying-boat  rushed  swiftly  by 
the  faces  of  the  two  watchers.  The  machine  struck 
the  water.  Lora  Humphrey  closed  her  eyes  for  the 
second  it  struck — involuntarily.  She  opened  them  as 
quickly  at  the  resounding  splash  of  the  big  machine  as 
it  rolled  it  over  on  its  side  wobbling  for  an  infinitesimal 
space  before  it  gave  up  the  struggle  and  turned  turtle 
in  the  green  sizzling  waters  of  the  sound — fifty  feet 
from  where  the  girl  and  her  father  watched. 

They  saw  the  men  hurled  outward — saw  them  rise, 
one  after  the  other,  in  that  space  of  a  moment  they 
stood  there.  Save  for  the  whirring  and  splashing  of 
the  propeller  blades,  all  was  dead  silence.  One 
agonized  glance  the  girl  gave  her  father,  as  her  eyes 
looked  deeply  into  his.  No  word  was  spoken,  but  with 
a  concerted  movement  father  and  daughter  leaped 
from  the  wharf  and  headed  for  the  swishing  waters 
that  marked  the  death  struggles  of  the  big  man-bird. 

Youth  and  a  greater  practice  served  Lora  Hum- 


54  JUNE  GOLD 

phrey,  so  that  It  was  the  girl,  but  little  hampered  by  the 
clinging  of  her  yellow  gingham  gown,  who  first 
reached  the  damaged  craft  where  one  man  who  was 
pinned  beneath  the  cockpit,  the  forepart  of  his  body 
submerged,  his  feet  kicking  the  water  into  a  foam, 
had  not  been  able  to  free  himself.  Four  other  figures 
were  striking  out  for  the  beach. 

In  spite  of  all  her  efforts,  Lora  Humphrey  could 
not  loosen  the  man  whose  efforts  were  growing  less 
and  less.  She  must  dive,  she  knew  in  the  moment  she 
considered  the  matter,  her  hand  resting  on  a  propeller 
blade  that  was  lapping  in  the  water. 

It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  for  the  girl  who 
spent  so  much  time  in  the  water  to  dive  and  loosen  the 
bits  of  enfillage  that  pinned  the  man  she  had  come  to 
rescue,  but  before  it  was  accomplished  his  feet  were 
no  longer  kicking  the  water. 

It  was  a  dead  weight — a  water-logged  body — 
all  that  for  the  moment  was  left  of  Harrison  Steele 
that  Lora  Humphrey  pulled  out  on  the  shell-strewn 
beach  a  few  moments  later. 

They  were  an  awe-stricken  company  who  gathered 
about  the  rescued  man,  but  no  time  was  lost  In  begin- 
ning resuscitation.  Five,  ten  minutes  went  by.  Har- 
rison Steele  showed  no  sign  of  returning  conscious- 
ness. 

"Do  you  think  he  can  make  it?"  asked  Cardwell,  as 


JUNE  GOLD  55 

he  turned  exhausted  eyes  to  Lora  Humphrey  who  had 
never  ceased  her  efforts  as  she  mechanically  pumped 
the  half -drowned  man's  arms  up  and  down. 

**If  he  can  get  back  his  vitality  after  the  water's 
out,"  she  found  breath  to  answer.  To  her  father  she 
nodded.  "Go  up  to  the  house  and  get  the  jug!"  she 
ordered.    ''He's  coming  around " 

Billy  Meade  stared  at  their  patient  as  he  turned  him 
over  and  remarked  dryly,  as  he  noted  the  color  that 
began  to  show  and  the  fluttering  eyelids:  "He'll  do! 
Never  cared  a  great  deal  for  water  anyway.'* 

Humphrey's  lumbering  long  hulk  made  the  trip  to 
his  house  and  returned  with  the  jug  his  daughter  had 
ordered  in  record  time.  She  took  it  and  poured  down 
her  unprotesting  victim's  throat  his  first  drink  of  boot- 
leg whiskey — Monkey  Rum,  they  called  it  out  there 
in  the  hommocks  country  where  it  was  made  and 
where  they  didn't  know  a  lot  about  Mr.  Volstead  and 
cared  a  lot  less.  That  Monkey  Rum  in  its  natural 
state  was  possessed  of  a  flavor  and  odor  that  had  been 
known  to  make  many  a  strong  man  forswear  moon- 
shine forever  was  a  matter,  though,  that  Harrison 
Steele  knew  nothing  of  and  cared  less.  His  eyes 
opened  after  the  second  enforced  swallow. 

"B-r-r-r-!"  said  Harrison  Steele. 

It  was  his  salutation  to  the  North  Carolina  substi- 
tute for  the  thing  the  search  for  which  had  brought 


56  JUNE  GOLD 

him  on  its  first  leg  to  within  an  inch  of  death.  Weakly 
he  tried  to  sit  up.  Lora  Humphrey  drew  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief as  she  drew  back,  but  it  was  on  her  face  that  the 
broker's  eyes  fastened  in  his  first  moments  of  con- 
sciousness.   Then  his  gaze  turned  to  take  in  the  others. 

"Where "  he  began  weakly. 

Clement  Ashley  stopped  for  the  first  time  since  the 
girl  had  brought  Steele  ashore  to  think  of  himself.  He 
started  to  squeeze  the  waters  of  Bogue  Sound  from  his 
once  immaculate  sport  suit. 

"Where  are  you,  you  want  to  ask?"  he  queried  of 
Steele,  before  the  broker  could  find  strength  to  finish 
his  sentence.  "Well,  you're  not  in  heaven  yet,  old- 
timer,  but "  and  his  eyes  glanced  appreciatively  at 

Lora  Humphrey,  whose  soft,  young,  feminine  curves 
were  so  unconsciously  displayed  in  the  water-soaked 
gingham  bungalow  apron — "but  darned  near  it,  I'd 
say." 

Unheeding,  the  girl  bent  over  the  fast-rousing  man. 

"All  right,  now?"  she  asked  soothingly. 

"Will  be,"  he  coughed,  "as  soon  as  I  get  this  cock- 
tail of  gasoline  and  salt  water  assimilated,  but — but — 
what — what "     He  stopped  stammeringly. 

Again  it  was  the  irrepressible  Ashley  who  answered 
— Ashley,  more  irrepressible  than  ever  in  his  happiness 
at  his  friend's  narrow  escape. 

"You'd  like  to  know  what  happened?"  he  queried. 


JUNE  GOLD  57 

and  he  tried,  with  scant  success,  to  give  to  his  salt- 
water-soaked mustache  its  accustomed  perky  tilt. 
"Well,  I'll  tell  you.  It  looks  as  though  one  perfectly 
good  personal-liberty  party  had  descended  flat  on  its 
more  or  less  well-known  flitter  right  in  the  Atlantic 
Ocean !'' 


CHAPTER  V 


tc 


K 


IGHT  peart   fer  a  man  who   come   so  near 
a-drownin*,  hain*t  he,  doc?'* 

Old  Theo  looked  down  at  Harrison  Steele 
who  lay  in  bed  in  the  spare  room  of  the  Humphrey 
home,  with  the  morning  sunlight  streaming  softly  in 
through  the  white-curtained  windows  and  making 
rainbows  of  the  gay  covers  of  his  patchwork  quilt 
with  its  sunrise  pattern.  He  addressed  Dr.  Parson, 
who  had  again  ridden  over  from  Swansboro  in  the 
morning,  after  leaving  the  patient  in  the  capable  hands 
of  Lora  Humphrey  the  night  before.  The  village 
doctor  smiled,  but  there  was  something  in  his  pro- 
fessional manner  that  showed  he  did  not  intend  to 
make  too  easy  a  case  of  the  New  Yorker.  Such  grist 
did  not  often  come  to  his  mill. 

"He  has  been  well  cared  for,"  he  offered.  *T  don't 
often  have  any  one  like  Miss  Lora  to  look  after  my 
patients,  but  he  must  stay  in  bed  for  a  while  and  take 
it  easy " 

Harrison  Steele  looked  up  with  a  smile. 

"I'm  not  much  the  staying  in  bed  kind,  doctor,"  he 

said,  but  then  his  eyes  wandered  to  Lora  Humphrey 

58 


JUNE  GOLD  59 

who  had  donned  one  of  the  uniforms  she  had  not 
used  since  her  days  of  nursing  in  an  American  conva- 
lescent hospital  during  the  war,  and  his  expression 
changed.  ''I'll  be  all  right,  I'm  sure,"  he  agreed,  add- 
ing with  a  smile  at  the  girl  who  was  busying  herself 
with  his  pillows,  *'but  I  guess  you're  right — I'm  not 

feeling  so  strong "     He  stretched  his  long  length 

luxuriously  in  the  bright-coverleted  bed,  and  tried  to 
take  on  the  expression  of  an  invalid. 

Watching,  Clement  Ashley  could  scarcely  believe 
his  eyes.  The  by-play  had  not  escaped  him  any  more 
than  it  had  Cardwell  and  Meade.  Surprised  glances 
passed  between  the  friends  who  had  never  known 
Harrison  Steele  to  give  more  than  a  passing  glance  to 
any  woman.  There  was  something  in  his  eyes  now, 
though,  as  he  glanced  at  Lora  Humphrey.  Could  that 
accident  have  gone  to  his  head? 

Ashley  grinned.  "Then  we'll  have  to  count  you  out 
of  the  party  over  at  the  lodge,  eh?"  he  asked.  "Don't 
feel  you're  going  to  be  strong  enough  to  take  a  crack 
at  a  few  ducks,  or  marsh  hens  or  poke  out  a  few 
alligators  or  sea  turtles  with  us?" 

Steele  shook  his  head  weakly,  his  eyes  surrepti- 
tiously glancing  at  Lora  Humphrey. 

"The  doctor  knows  best,"  he  declared.  *T'm  afraid 
it  would  be  chilly  over  there,  too — the  lodge  hasn't 
been  opened  this  spring  has  it,  Cardwell?" 


60  JUNE  GOLD 

"Wall,  now,  I  reckon  ye're  right.'*  It  was  the 
old  man  who  put  in  his  word.  "I  'low  if  s  about  two 
blankets  and  a  couple  of  comf 'tables  warmer  over  here 
than  on  the  island.  Ye'd  better  stay  right  here  a 
while,  and  let  Lory  fix  ye  up.  Jes*  wait  a  shake,  doc," 
he  called  to  Dr.  Parson  who  had  got  his  bag  closed 
and  was  rising  to  go.  "Wait  till  I  saddle  up  my  pony 
and  I'll  mosey  along  with  ye.  Got  to  stop  at  Nigger 
Henry's  cabin  to  git  him  to  come  up  and  cook  fer 
these  fellers,  and  goin'  on  in  to  Swansboro  fer  some 
more  supplies.  Kind  o'  low  jes'  now  over  at  the 
lodge,  'count  o'  not  expectin'  anybody.  I've  got  a 
raft  o'  hens  and  a  good  cow  beast,  but  from  the  looks 
of  these  chaps  and  the  way  they  been  a-puttin'  away 
biscuits,  I  'low  they'll  want  a  sight  more  than  milk 
and  eggs  and  marsh  hens." 

"Don't  forget  to  stop  at  the  telegraph  office  to  see 
if  a  message  has  come,"  called  Cardwell,  before  the 
door  closed  softly  behind  the  lumbering  old  man  and 
the  doctor. 

For,  in  spite  of  the  accident  to  the  airplane  which 
only  the  quick  heroic  action  of  Lora  Humphrey  had 
kept  from  ending  in  tragedy,  they  had  not  forgotten 
the  original  purpose  of  their  expedition,  and  when 
the  old  man  had  hurriedly  ridden  on  his  "pony  beast" 
to  the  Cedar  Point  Ferry  and  into  Swansboro,  the 
metropolis  of  the  district  with  its  five  or  six  hundred 


JUNE  GOLD  61 

souls  and  its  real  telegraph  office,  he  had  carried  with 
him  a  message  to  Captain  McMaster  at  Miami  to  make 
all  possible  speed  with  the  Falcon  to  Bogue  Inlet.  A 
glance  at  the  wrecked  plane  had  been  sufficient  to 
show  that,  so  far  as  it  was  concerned  in  its  present 
state,  all  bets  were  off.  They  had  learned  that  there 
was  a  daily  freight  and  passenger  boat  plying  between 
Swansboro  and  iMorehead  City,  and  already  Don 
Baldwin  was  m.aking  plans  for  salvaging  his  plane  and 
taking  it  to  the  latter  place  where  a  repair  station  for 
airplanes  was  operated  by  the  Government,  so  that  he 
might  have  it  put  in  readiness  for  any  future  use  his 
companions  should  have  for  it. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  Don  was  a  sport?"  commented 
Meade,  in  a  satisfied  manner  when  they  w^atched  the 
a\aator  paddling  around  in  the  waters  of  the  Inlet 
poking  at  the  wreckage.  "Didn't  I  tell  you  he  wouldn't 
give  up?  He  wants  to  be  in  this  thing  to  the 
finish '* 

"He'll  have  to  get  a  move  on,  then,"  remarked  Card- 
well,  dryly.     "The  Falcon  can  make  some  time!" 

On  the  morning  after  the  accident,  the  entire  party 
had  gathered  in  the  Humphrey  spare  room  to  hear 
the  verdict  of  Dr.  Parson  as  to  Steele's  condition. 
It  would  put  a  decided  crimp  into  their  plans  should 
the  head  of  the  party  not  make  a  rapid  recovery.  As 
they  had  looked  at  the  big  broker  lying  there  so  com- 


62  JUNE  GOLD 

fortably,  however,  all  their  doubts  were  at  rest — at 
least  as  to  his  physical  condition.  They  could  hardly 
understand  why  he  had  not  risen  and  come  to  break- 
fast with  them.  What  they  had  seen  later  had  been 
explanatory. 

Lora  Humphrey  spoke  when  the  doctor  and  her 
father  had  gone. 

"You're  all  right?"  she  asked,  as  she  gave  the  cov- 
erlet a  final  pat.    "I  must  be  looking  after  the  dinner, 

now,  but  if  you  need  me "     She  pushed  the  small 

table  beside  his  bed  a  little  closer,  and  indicated  the 
bell  she  had  placed  on  it.  "Nobody's  going  to  think 
dinner's  ready  if  they  hear  you  ringing  the  dinner 
bell  around  here — it's  the  only  one  we  have,"  apologet- 
ically. 

Harrison  Steele,  regardless  of  his  friends  who  sat 
watching,  reached  up  for  the  girl's  hands  which  he 
caught  with  all  the  eagerness  of  a  youth. 

"I'm  all  right,"  he  assured,  "thanks  to  you!  You 
haven't  even  given  me  a  good  chance  to  thank  you  for 
what " 

Embarrassed,  the  girl  quietly  withdrew  her  hands. 

"It  was  nothing — nothing — nothing '*  she  de- 
clared, "just  what  anybody '* 

And  before  Harrison  Steele  could  say  another  word, 
she  had  sped  lightly  from  the  room.  The  broker's 
friends  caught  the  look  of  dawning  adoration  in  their 


JUNE  GOLD  63 

companion's  eyes,  as  the  big  man  in  the  bed  watched 
her  go. 

Cardwell  got  up  and  sat  down  on  the  bed. 

"You're  sure  you  feel  all  right?"  he  began,  but 
his  solicitous  inquiry  was  interrupted  by  one  in  a  still 
more  mockingly  solicitous  tone  from  Clement  Ashley. 

"Say,  old  chaps,"  he  inquired,  as  he  bent  a  sad  look 
on  the  man  in  the  bed,  "don't  you  think  it  would  be 
better  to  send  for  a  couple  of  head  doctors?" 

Steele's  face  flamed  a  deep  scarlet. 

"Shut  up !"  he  roared,  in  the  usual  tone  he  employed 
to  Ashley. 

The  other  subsided. 

"I  guess  he'll  live  till  morning,"  he  nodded. 

But  already,  Steele's  expression  had  changed;  had 
become  more  serious;  half  apologetic;  half  shame- 
faced. 

"Don't  know  that  I  blame  you  fellows  altogether," 
he  told  them.  "Don't  quite  understand  myself,  but — 
er — maybe  that  accident  did  do  something  to  me — 
don't  know  that  I  ever  thought  any  woman  be- 
fore  " 

It  was  Meade,  understanding  Meade,  who  changed 
the  subject. 

"What  about  our  plans?"  he  asked.  "We'll  go  over 
to  the  lodge,  of  course " 

"All   except   our   invalid,"   mocked   Ashley,    "who 


64  JUNE  GOLD 

needs  it  'two  blankets  and  a  couple  o'  comf'tables 


warmer.*  " 


They  did  not  notice  him. 

"We'll  just  take  it  easy  till  Captain  McMaster  gets 
here,"  Cardwell  took  up  the  conversation,  "and  I  think 
you'll  all  find  plenty  to  do  over  on  the  island — and 
have  the  time  of  your  life  hunting  and  fishing  with  old 
Theo  as  guide.  Say,  he's  a  card.  Just  get  him  to 
talking.  Better  than  a  vaudeville.  Likes  to  think  of 
himself  as  a  devil  with  the  ladies — or  that  he  once  was, 
at  any  rate.  As  far  as  I  can  make  out  he  was  once 
a  sort  of  prototype  of  the  Spaniard — what's  his 
name,  in  'The  Four  Horsemen'  who  did  so  much  to 
populate  his  section  of  South  America.  From  w^hat 
he  insinuates,  there's  more  than  one  little  tad  (some 
older  ones,  too,  likely)  that  by  rights  could  call  him 
*pap.*  He  likes  to  think  of  himself  as  a  pretty  gay 
old  boy,  yet,  too,  but  I  believe  most  of  his  time  is 
spent  in  sitting  around  ruminating  over  the  time  he 
was  Vtravelin'  some  as  fcr  as  wimmen  were  con- 
sarned.' " 

A  general  laugh  went  up  from  the  party  at  Card- 
well's  mimicry  of  his  guide  and  their  host. 

"Pretty  husky  old  boy,  though,  still — you'll  have  to 
hand  him  that,"  was  Ashley's  comment,  as  he  regarded 
his  own  none  too  well-developed  figure  in  its  rough 
dried  tweeds.     Though  he  had  himself  not  been  im- 


JUNE  GOLD  65 

pressed  by  Lora  Humphrey,  any  more  than  he  usually 
was  by  any  pretty  face,  still  it  was  a  matter  of  much 
concern  to  the  young  man  always  so  proud  of  his  smart 
appearance  before  one  of  the  opposite  sex,  that  he  had 
had  to  appear  before  the  girl  In  such  garments — 
more,  that  he  would  have  to  keep  on  wearing  them 
for  some  time  to  come,  for  of  course,  it  had  not  been 
possible  to  carry  much  luggage  in  the  airplane,  and 
each  man  had  brought  just  what  was  necessary. 

"I'll  say  so,"  nodded  Cardwell,  firmly.  "Why,  you 
chaps  can't  have  any  notion  of  the  old  fellow's  strength 
— and  he  takes  it  so  as  a  matter  of  course.  It  was 
that  that  first  impressed  me  with  him  and  ended  with 
this  arrangement  of  ours  which  has  been  so  mutually 
satisfactory;  satisfactory  for  the  old  man  because 
he's  being  paid  real  money  for  doing  what  he  likes 
best  to  do ;  likewise  with  me  because  I  know  I  have  the 
best  guide  and  caretaker  that  a  man  could  wish  for, 
and  that  my  lodge  and  game  preserve  are  In  capable 
hands." 

"How  did  you  ever  happen  to  come  on  this  place, 
anyhow,  Cardwell?"  asked  Steele,  his  interest  suddenly 
allowing  him  to  forget  how  ill  he  was.  "Don*t  believe 
you  ever  told  me." 

Cardwell  laughed. 

"More  or  less  an  accident,"  he  began,  but  again 
it  was  Ashley  who  interrupted. 


66  JUNE  GOLD 

"Must  one  always  have  them  to  land  anywhere  along 
this  part  of  the  North  Carolina  coast?"  he  queried, 
wonderingly. 

Cardwell  went  on  without  noticing  the  interruption. 

'Trobably  you  know,"  he  related,"  that  through 
Bogue  Sound  out  here,  runs  the  inland  waterway 
which  is  the  route  taken  by  the  lighter  draft  yachts 
on  their  winter  pilgrimages  between  the  north  and  the 
Florida  waters.  Most  of  it  is  pretty  clear,  but  on  the 
western  side  the  sound  is  marshy,  and  the  channel 
in  this  portion  winds  greatly — making  it  a  pretty  tick- 
lish piece  of  piloting  work  for  anyone  who  doesn't 
know  the  course  well.  I  was  on  my  way  to  Florida 
a  couple  of  years  ago,  and  like  a  lot  of  other  yachts- 
men, I  thought  that  what  I  didn't  know  about  steering 
wasn't  in  the  books.  The  channel  lights  that  have 
been  placed  out  there  by  the  Government  are  not  as 
well  located  as  they  might  be,  though,  and  I  had  that 
partly,  as  well  as  my  own  foolhardiness  to  thank  for 
coming  to  grief. 

"Before  I  knew  what  had  happened,  I  had  run  my 
craft  spang  up  on  a  sand  bar.  We  had  all  hands 
working  hard  for  an  hour,  but  not  a  thing  stirring. 
Might  have  been  there  yet,  if  old  Humphrey  hadn't 
bobbed  up  from  those  marshes,  poling  his  skiff  home 
from  a  duck  hunt.  Well,  sir,  that  old  bird  just 
stepped  right  out  of  his  skiff  into  the  shallow  water 


JUNE  GOLD  67 

covering  the  bar,  where  my  craft's  nose  was  resting, 
ordered  all  hands  astern,  and  with  a  grunt  and  a  lift 
of  those  ponderous  shoulders  of  his,  he  pushed  us 
off  into  the  deeper  waters  of  the  channel.  Then  he 
poled  his  skiff  alongside  us  and  chucked  on  deck  a 
brace  of  the  finest  mallards  you  ever  saw.  Wouldn't 
take  a  cent,  either. 

*'Those  mallards  were  so  fine  that  I  kept  thinking 
about  them,  and  when  I  came  back  from  Florida  later, 
I  stopped  over  here  for  a  try  at  the  hunting.  In  the 
end,  he  helped  me  buy  the  island  and  put  up  the  lodge. 
And  I'll  say  we've  kept  it  one  of  the  most  exclusive 
a  man  ever  owned — except  for  one  part.  Down  near 
the  end  to  the  eastward,  there's  a  little  band  of  the 
most  primitive  squatters  you  ever  saw — we'll  go  down 
and  look  them  over  some  day — they've  made  up  their 
minds  they  have  a  right  to  the  place  and  to  their  living 
by  fishing  and  scalloping,  and  I  for  one  don't  care 
much  about  taking  a  chance  of  proving  them  wrong. 
The  last  man  who  undertook  to  tell  one  of  them  to 
go  away  from  there,  I  understand,  was  found  on  the 
beach  quite  as  dead  as  the  chap  he  had  been  trying 
to  argue  with.  At  any  rate,  they're  beside  the  point. 
They  won't  interfere  with  our  hunting  and  fishing, 
nor  will  they  interfere  with  anything  else  we  try  to 
do  if  we  don't  bother  them.     Don't  believe  they'd 


68  JUNE  GOLD 

know  what  we  were  up  to  if  we  sailed  right  up  to  the 
beach  with  half  the  wet  stuff  in  Bermuda " 

*Which  recalls  to  me,"  put  in  Meade  with  his  slow 
smile,  "that  our  purpose  wasn't  altogether  to  hunt  or 
iish  or  to  watch  Steele  through  any  mental  aberra- 
tions.   What  are  the  plans?" 

Steele  was  considering.  Somehow,  as  he  lay  there, 
and  with  the  memory  of  Lora  Humphrey's  smile  fresh 
with  him,  the  exploit  they  had  undertaken  didn't  seem 
half  so  worth  while ;  nor  did  his  proving  that  he  could 
have  his  own  way  in  spite  of  laws  appear  quite  so 
alluring. 

"I  suppose  we  can't  do  much  till  we  hear  from 
Captain  McMaster  and  know  when  he'll  get  here,"  he 
commented.  "There  isn't  anything  in  such  a  rushing 
hurry '* 

"Umm!     I  assume  not "  Clem  Ashley's  smile 

was  dry,  but  the  twinkle  in  his  eyes  was  illuminative. 

"I'll  be  all  right  in  a  few  days,  no  doubt,"  went  on 
the  man  who  had  come  so  near  drowning,  "and  we 
can  make  more  complete  plans.    In  the  meantime " 

From  outside  came  a  long  hail.  Cardwell  pulled 
aside  the  curtains  to  glance  out. 

"Hmmph!"  he  remarked.  "Old  Theo  has  been  a 
travelin'  some  again,  or  we've  been  killing  more  time 
here  with  Steele  than  we  thought.  He's  got  the  nigger 
with  him,  too.     Guess  we'd  better  'mosey.'     Well,  so 


JUNE  GOLD  69 

long,  Steele — take  care  of  yourself/'  As  he  turned 
to  the  door,  the  others  rose  to  follow. 

''Now,  don't  go  and  get  feverish,  old  man,"  Ashley 
remonstrated  with  the  man  in  the  bed.  *'We're  going 
to  need  you.  I,  for  one,  can't  say  I  can  go  long  on 
North  Carolina  Monkey  Rum."  He  dodged  the  pillow 
Steele  flung  at  him  in  fury,  and  gave  him  a  last  mock- 
ing grin  from  the  doorway. 

At  the  wharf,  Humphrey  and  the  negro  who  was 
to  cook  for  the  party  were  waiting.  A  small  launch 
put-putted  importantly  as  the  two  stowed  the  few 
belongings  of  the  hunting  party  who  stepped  aboard. 
The  strong  brown  hands  of  the  old  guide  turned  the 
wheel  and  swung  them  about  into  midchannel,  headed 
down  the  inlet  for  the  landing  place  hidden  in  a 
grove  of  live  oaks,  with  their  background  of  virgin 
pine,  sweet  bay  and  cypress  trees — groves  themselves 
making  other  hiding  places  for  the  wild  things  the 
men  in  the  chattering  motor  boat  were  going  to  seek. 
That  island  which  was  taking  on  clearer  shape  to  the 
eyes  of  the  city  men  guided  by  the  big  gangling  North 
Carolinian  proger  was  a  hunters'  paradise;  a  small, 
sweetly- wooded  retreat  for  deer  and  turkeys ;  squirrels, 
'possums  and  coons;  foxes  and  wild  cats;  bears,  too 
— and  goats,  hundreds  of  them,  wild  and  lithe — goats 
like  those  many  another  hunter  has  climbed  the  Rocky 
Mountain  fastnesses  to  find. 


70  JUNE  GOLD 

Cardwell  turned  his  eyes  from  contemplation  of  his 
own  island  preserve  as  the  sound  of  a  second  motor 
engine  came  to  his  ears. 

"Halloo!"  he  remarked,  as  his  eyes  caught  sight 
of  a  man  in  a  swift-running  gasoline  surf  boat  which 
was  fast  coming  abreast  of  them.    "Another  hunter?" 

Old  Theo  shaded  his  eyes  from  the  sun  glinting  on 
the  rippling  surface  of  the  inlet  with  his  big  hand, 
and  looked  over  the  small  craft's  solitary  occupant. 

"That'll  be  Hal  Everett,"  he  informed.  "Got  time 
off  from  the  Coast  Guard  likely."  A  knowing  grin 
widened  his  big  mouth  till  his  yellow  tobacco-stained 
teeth  glowed.  "I  'low  he'll  be  on  his  way  over  to  see 
Lory — but  I  mean  to  say  she'll  be  kind  o'  too  busy 
fer  sparkin' " 

Cardwell  laughed,  but  his  attention  was  turned  once 

more  to  the  island  which  was  looming  up  before  them. 

On  the  face  of  Clement  Ashley  there  was  an  impish 

grin  as  his   eyes  took  in  the  brawny  figure  of  the 

coast  guard  whose  boat  swept  by  them.    In  those  eyes 

was   something   which   seemed   to   wonder   if    Steele 

wasn't  going   to   find   pretty   rough   going   with   the 

hommocks  beauty  who  was  nursing  him,  if  here  was 
his  rival. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ERHAPS  at  some  time  It  may  have  been  your 
experience  to  witness  a  coast  guard  at  work. 
If  so,  whatever  other  exciting  moments  may 
come  into  your  hfe,  you  will  never  forget  the  thrill 
that  came  as  you  saw  these  hardy  men  who  guard  life 
along  the  length  of  the  whole  eastern  coast  of  the 
United  States,  battling  with  wind  and  waves — exerting 
superhuman  strength  and  daring  to  reach  sea-menaced 
mariners.  Froth-covered  waves  that  hide  the  ship 
where  cling  specks  of  humanity  waiting  for  aid  mean 
nothing  to  these  men  as  they  ride  in  their  surf  boats 
into  watery  hills  and  valleys  to  reach  an  endangered 
vessel.  And  the  breeches  buoy!  There  is  the  thrill! 
As  it  goes  sailing  out  across  an  angry  sea  to  be  caught 
by  ship-wrecked  mariners,  hurled  with  unerring  aim 
by  the  sturdy  arm  of  a  coast-guardsman! 

Except  when  some  especially  spectacular  rescue  Is 
made,  though,  news  of  which  is  sent  by  telegraph  to 
the  great  newspapers,  little  Is  ever  heard  of  these 
guards  by  the  world  at  large.  Only  In  the  more  iso- 
lated districts  do  they  come  Into  their  own — spots 
where  people  are  few,  when  the  coast  guards  and  their 
stations  become  social  units.     Such  a  place  was  that 

71 


72  JUNE  iGOLD 

portion  of  the  North  Carolina  coast  where  lay  Bogue 
Island  and  Grayson  Cardwell's  hunting  preserve.  The 
Coast  Guard  station  of  Bogue  Inlet  (as  it  was  referred 
to)  was  on  the  extreme  end  of  the  island  which  Card- 
well  had  purchased,  but  smaller  stations  lay  all  along 
the  hilly  sand  of  the  seaward  side  of  the  island.  Prob- 
ably in  no  other  stretch  along  the  entire  coast  from 
Maine  to  Florida  is  the  sea  more  treacherous  than 
along  this  portion  of  coast.  It  is  here  that  sudden 
squalls  are  at  their  greatest  fury,  and  the  danger  to 
craft  that  hug  the  coast  is  here  greatest  because  of  the 
submerged  sand  bars  that  reach  far  out  into  the  sea. 
Indeed,  the  treachery  of  the  coast  of  the  Carollnas, 
and  in  particular  of  that  that  lies  off  Bogue  Island 
has  become  historical,  for  it  was  along  this  portion  of 
sea  coast  that  the  pirates  of  old  patrolled  most  freely 
in  the  hope  of  booty  from  endangered  vessels  which 
could  be  driven  on  the  rocks ;  and  more,  history  records 
tales  of  more  than  one  pirate  craft  which  itself  be- 
came a  victim  of  the  hungry  sea  at  this  point.  Though 
so  many  years  have  passed  since  either  Captain  Kidd 
or  Morgan  or  the  still  more  infamous  Black  Beard 
sailed  the  main,  the  descendants  of  the  North  Caro- 
linians of  the  time  of  those  pirate  chiefs  have  never 
ceased  to  believe  in  tales  of  the  treasure  that  was 
hastily  buried  when  ships  were  wrecked — nor  to 
search  for  it. 


JUNE  GOLD  73 

Like  all  of  their  kind,  the  crew  of  the  Coast  Guard 
station  at  Bogue  Inlet  were  a  brave  and  hardy  lot. 
More  than  one  sea-faring  man  safe  in  harbor  through 
their  efforts  tells  tales  of  brave  rescues  at  their  hands 
either  by  boat  through  the  raging  surf,  or  by  breeches 
buoy  whose  cable  was  shot  across  a  wreck  when  the 
breakers  w^ere  so  w^ild  that  it  seemed  past  all  efforts 
of  mere  man  to  conquer  the  monster  of  the  deep.  But 
situated  as  they  were,  so  near  that  hommock  country 
where  people  were  few,  and  where  human  compan- 
ionship was  worth  more  than  any  social  distinction, 
the  men  of  the  coast  guard  were  luckier  than  some 
others  w^ho  made  life  saving  at  sea  their  business  in 
that  they  had  become  an  integral  part  of  the  social 
community — a  far  greater  part  indeed,  than  others 
in  the  same  locality — say  the  squatters  on  his  island 
to  whom  Cardwell  took  exception,  but  whom  he  be- 
lieved it  to  be  the  greater  part  of  valor  not  to  disturb. 

Of  all  the  members  of  the  crew  of  the  Bogue  Inlet 
Coast  Guard  Station,  perhaps  none  was  so  well  known 
as  Hal  Everett,  the  brawny  oarsman  Cardwell's  camp- 
ing party  had  encountered.  Many  things  had  gone 
to  make  up  his  fame,  or  notoriety,  one  might  rather 
say,  in  the  community,  for  it  could  not  with  any  truth 
be  said  that  Hal  was  known  for  any  especial  lov- 
able qualities,  or  for  personal  popularity.  True,  he 
had  enough  and  to  spare  of  that  commodity  in  some 


74  JUNE  GOLD 

quarters,  but  the  favor  which  he  had  found  in  the 
eyes  of  many  of  the  women  of  the  hommock  country 
and  in  Swansboro  had  not  further  endeared  him  to 
his  masculine  companions.  Not  even  with  his  team 
mates  was  he  in  anywise  a  favorite,  for  a  notoriously 
ungovernable  temper  had  long  since  given  him  a  repu- 
tation that  was  not  enviable,  and  only  women  who  saw 
in  him  an  unusually  personable  male  of  the  brawny 
type  so  much  admired  in  that  country,  could  overlook 
this.  Unlike  most  other  coast  guardsmen,  too,  he  was 
at  times  inclined  to  look  all  too  lovingly  on  the  moon- 
shine when  it  was  clearest,  and  had  he  not  been  under 
an  easy-going  and  good-hearted  captain,  he  would 
long  ago  have  ceased  to  be  a  member  of  the  crew. 

Old  Theo  summed  up  to  Cardwell  and  his  guests, 
the  opinion  of  the  neighborhood  in  regard  to  Hal 
Everett,  as  they  watched  the  big,  browned  life-saver 
steering  his  small  craft  up  the  inlet  with  perfect 
knowledge  of  the  winding  channel. 

''Reckon  you-all  '11  find  you  kin  git  along  without 
Hal's  company  should  he  come  along  by  the  lodge. 
Don't  nowise  seem  to  be  able  to  hold  his  licker  and 
be  friendly.  Got  a  bad  habit  of  momocking  up  folks 
that  don't  see  his  ways  when  he's  like  that — most 
of  them  hereabouts  are  skeered  of  him  when  he's  been 
hittin'  the  Monkey  Rum " 


JUNE  GOLD  75 

Clement  Ashley  turned  on  the  old  man  with  sur- 
prise. 

*'But  didn't  you  just  say  he  was  probably  going  to 
see  your  daughter?"  he  queried. 

The  old  man  shifted  his  quid,  shot  a  long  stream 
out  into  the  waters  of  the  sound  and  grinned. 

"Pshaw !"  he  boasted.  ''I  ain't  skeered  of  him — and 
I  'low  Lory,  she  hain't  any.  She  can  tell  him  the  time 
o*  day  if  need  be — but  he  lies  pretty  low  with  her. 
Them  Swansboro  women  been  making  a  fool  of  Hal 
come  a  long  time,  but  I  will  say  for  him  he  never 
seemed  to  have  much  time  for  wimmen  till  Lory  come 
home " 

''Good  taste,  at  any  rai;e,"  was  the  little  man's  com- 
ment, as  their  boat  shot  into  a  point  ashore,  its  nose 
beached  neatly  by  the  old  guide  with  his  poling  stick. 

Could  anything  favorable  have  been  said  for  Hal 
Everett  aside  from  a  recognition  of  his  bravery  which 
amounted  almost  to  recklessness,  it  was  what  Hum- 
phrey had  intimated.  He  was  used  to  being  admired 
by  the  women  of  the  neighborhood;  it  was  an  old 
story,  and  one  that  had  never  particularly  interested 
him  until  his  gaze  had  rested  one  day  on  Lora  Hum- 
phrey, returned  from  the  'Westward.'  He  had  first 
seen  her  battling  with  the  surf  on  the  outer  side  of 
■Bogue  Island,  and  his  admiration  for  the  girl's  cour- 
age had  been  aroused  even  before  he  saw  her.    Later, 


76  JUNE  GOLD 

when  he  had  come  to  know  her,  as  was  inevitable  in 
that  community  where  everyone  met  everyone  else, 
he  had  been  bowled  over  for  the  first  time  in  his  life. 
The  girl's  natural  beauty,  added  to  the  grace  and 
charm  she  had  acquired  during  her  stay  outside  the 
hommock  country  had  brought  him  a  more  than  will- 
ing captive  to  her  chariot  wheel.  But  for  once  in  his 
life,  Hal  Everett  came  to  realize  that  his  sparkling 
black  eyes  and  magnificent  physique  were  not  enough 
to  make  a  conquest  in  their  turn.  Lora  Humphrey 
had  been  civil  to  the  coast  guard,  had  even  not  re- 
pulsed his  efforts  at  friendly  relationship,  but  she  had 
turned  a  cold  shoulder  on  all  his  efforts  to  bring  them 
nearer.  The  tales  she  had  heard  of  the  man's  exploits 
when  off  duty  at  Swansboro  had  not  furthered  her 
would-be-wooer's  interests  with  her.  Lora  Humphrey 
had  no  mind  for  brawls,  even  though  the  gossips  ad- 
miringly told  how  Hal  Everett  had  always  come  out 
winner  in  his  favorite  game  of  fisticuffs.  Not  even 
her  disapproval,  however,  had  dampened  the  man's 
ardor,  and  he  had  come  to  insist,  in  the  vernacular 
of  the  neighborhood  that  the  daughter  of  old  Theophi- 
lus  Lopstrop  Humphrey  was  'liis  girl."  His  atten- 
tions to  her  had  done  one  thing  for  him.  No  longer 
did  he  head  straight  for  Swansboro  and  Monkey  Rum 
when  off  duty.  It  was  to  the  home  of  the  Hum- 
phreys that  he  first  wended  his  way.    It  was  on  one 


JUNE  GOLD  77 

of  these  visits  that  Hal  Everett  was  bent  when  he  had 
encountered  the  boatload  of  sportsmen  in  charge  of 
the  man  he  yearned  to  call  father-in-law.  He  had 
given  them  but  a  casual  glance.  He  could  not  imagine 
that  in  any  way  could  these  men  from  the  north  be 
concerned  in  his  affairs,  or  at  least  with  his  very 
present  affair  of  being  on  love-making  bent. 

Lora  Humphrey  had  brought  her  patient  a  steam- 
ing bowl  of  broth  and  had  held  it  while  Harrison 
Steele  ate. 

It  was  not  of  his  nourishment  that  the  broker  was 
thinking,  however,  as  his  hand  moved  slowly  with 
the  spoon  from  bowl  to  mouth,  f riendlily  guided  by  the 
girl  who  sat  beside  him  in  her  crisp  white  uniform. 
His  eyes  were  on  the  soft  tint  of  her  cosmeticless  skin, 
on  the  soft  tendrils  of  her  dusky  hair  which  the  breeze 
from  the  window  stirred  against  her  curved  young 
cheeks. 

He  finished  the  last  mouthful  with  a  regretful  sigh 
and  sank  back  among  his  pillows.  Lora  Humphrey 
put  the  bowl  on  the  table  and  turned  to  shake  up  her 
patient's  pillows.  Neither  of  them  had  ears  for  the 
slight  scraping  which  announced  the  beaching  of  Hal 
Everett's  boat  on  the  sands  down  beside  the  Hum- 
phrey's wharf. 

With  sudden  Impulse  Harrison  Steele  caught  at  one 


78  JUNE  GOLD 

of  the  girl's  capable  hands  as  they  smoothed  the  white- 
ness of  the  fluffy  pillows  beneath  his  head. 

"It  looks  like  I'm  always  to  be  more  indebted  to 
you,  Miss  Humphrey,  doesn't  it?"  he  asked,  a  smile 
lighting  up  the  features  that  liis  cosmopolite  life  had 
given  a  tinge  of  hardness.  ''First  you  save  me — then 
you  wait  on  me  like  a  youngster — and  you  won't  even 
let  me  thank  you " 

Lora  Humphrey  didn't  release  her  hands  for  a 
moment.  She  smiled  down  at  Steele,  and  there  was 
something  of  motherly  tenderness  in  her  eyes — the 
tenderness  so  often  seen  in  the  eyes  of  one  to  whom 
nursing  the  sick  back  to  health,  making  easier  the 
ills  of  humankind,  is  a  moving  impulse. 

"Then  thank  me  by  getting  well  and  strong,"  she 
told  him.  "I  know  your  friends  will  thank  you,  too 
— they  looked  a  little  woe-begone  and  as  though  they 
were  going  to  miss  you." 

The  doors  of  the  Humphrey  home  were  opened 
wide  as  Hal  Everett  swung  his  giant  form  along  the 
upward  path  leading  to  them  from  the  beach.  He 
made  for  them.  The  ceremony  of  knocking  and  wait- 
ing to  be  invited  to  enter  was  almost  an  unknown 
thing  in  the  countryside,  so  he  strode  across  the  rickety 
porch  and  through  the  open  doors  with  only  the  creak- 
ing of  a  remonstrating  board  to  announce  his  arrival. 
In  the  center  of  the  "sitting  room"  which  adjoined 


JUNE  GOLD  79 

the  guest  room  to  which  Steele  had  been  carried,  the 
big  coast  guardsman  stood  stock  still.  A  quiver  shook 
his  massive  frame.  Beneath  the  tan  of  many  weathers, 
his  face  went  white.  Muscles  tensed,  and  the  great 
body  drew  less  tall  as  his  unconscious  will  brought 
him  into  the  half  crouching  attitude  of  a  mountain 
tiger  about  to  spring  on  its  prey. 

It  was  on  this  strange  figure  with  its  blazing  eyes 
and  bared  teeth  that  Lora  Humphrey  and  Harrison 
Steele,  roused  by  the  sound  of  a  hissing  breath,  quick 
drawn,  looked  out  through  the  open  doors  of  the  bed- 
room. 

"Hal !"  Lora  Humphrey  disengaged  her  hands  from 
the  holding  clasp  of  the  broker  and  leapt  the  half 
length  of  the  room  to  face  Everett  from  the  door- 
way. "Hal !"  she  repeated,  but  only  the  sneer  of  the 
man  whose  piercing  black  eyes  looked  over  her  shoul- 
der to  the  strange  man  on  the  bed,  answered  her. 
All  that  Lora  Humphrey  had  ever  heard  of  this  man 
— of  the  danger  he  meant  when  aroused — flashed  over 
her.  That  he  was  aroused  now  as  never  before  was 
only  too  evident.  He  believed  there  was  reason — 
reason  the  girl,  too,  knew  well,  for  none  knew  better 
than  she  how  the  natives  of  her  home  looked  upon 
a  woman's  being  in  the  bedroom  of  a  strange  man. 
That  she  might  be  there  in  a  nurse's  capacity  made 
no  difference ;  Hal  Everett  was  one  of  those  who  had 


80  JUNE  GOLD 

never  accustomed  themselves  to  the  notion.  And  he 
had  seen  her  holding  the  strange  man's  hands. 
Strangely  enough,  though,  in  the  moments  while  the 
girl  stood  there,  her  level  gaze  holding  the  coast 
guardsman  who  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  it 
flashed  over  her  that  it  was  not  of  herself  she  was 
thinking.  Steele!  The  man  from  the  northern  city 
whom  she  had  rescued  from  death.  No  harm  must 
come  to  him. 

In  lowered  tones  she  spoke  to  Everett. 

"Just  take  a  seat  on  the  porch,  Hal,"  she  invited, 
"I'll  be  with  you  in  a  minute." 

Only  a  further  tensing  of  the  man's  muscles  an- 
swered her.  His  eyes,  mad  with  the  hate  of  a  wild 
beast's,  bored  past  her  into  the  room  where  Steele  lay 
on  his  white  pillows.  He  started  forward  a  step  as 
he  crouched.  Lora  Humphrey's  hand  went  up  toward 
him  in  an  imperious  movement. 

"Hal  Everett !"  she  commanded.  "I  have  a  patient 
here — a  man  who  has  been  near  death !  He  must  not 
be  disturbed!  Do  you — un-der-stand !"  The  last 
word  was  uttered  with  all  the  firmness  of  the  com- 
manding tones  of  a  superior  officer.  Another  sneer 
was  her  answer. 

For  moments — minutes,  they  stood  facing  each 
other — the  brawny  man  who  could  have  broken  her 
in  his  hands,  and  the  slender  determined  girl  whose 


JUNE  GOLD  81 

level  eyes  were  undermining  his  intentions  as  no 
show  of  human  brawn  could  have  done.  Slowly  the 
gaze  of  his  fire-glancing  black  eyes  lowered  before  that 
gaze.  Slowly  his  body  came  out  of  the  crouch  as  he 
half  straightened. 

Lora  Humphrey's  upraised  hand  came  as  cautiously 
down  until  it  indicated  the  open  doorway  of  the  sitting 
room.  When  she  spoke,  her  voice  was  soft — so  soft 
that  it  was  almost  a  purr. 

'*I  think  you'd  better  be  going  now,  Hal,"  she  mur- 
mured. 

Wordless  the  big  man  had  been  since  his  feet  had 
first  become  rooted  in  that  spot  in  the  sitting  room 
through  the  door  of  which  he  had  beheld  the  tableau 
that  had  maddened  him.  Wordless  he  was  as  he  hesi- 
tated one  moment  more,  then,  with  a  vicious  glance 
over  the  girl's  shoulder  at  the  man  on  the  bed,  he 
turned  and  stalked  from  the  house  of  the  woman  he 
loved — the  woman  he  had  raised  on  a  pedestal  so  high 
above  those  of  her  sex  in  the  small  part  of  the  world 
he  knew — the  woman  he  now  believed  his  own  eyes 
had  shown  him  to  be  faithless,  or  at  the  least,  to  be 
slightly  tarnished.  And  it  was  with  revenge  in  his 
half  civilized  heart — revenge  to  be  had  from  the  man 
he  had  left  in  the  girl's  home — that  he  flung  himself 
headlong  down  the  path  he  had  traversed  but  a  few 
moments  before  with  a  light  heart,  and  leapt  into  his 


82  JUNE  GOLD 

waiting  surf  boat.  Savage  strokes  with  his  pole  hurled 
him  far  out  into  the  sound  before  he  headed  his  craft 
in  ,the  direction  of  Swansboro.  Swansboro  and — 
Monkey  Rum! 

For  moments  more  Lora  Humphrey  stood  in  the 
doorway  from  which  she  had  watched  the  retreat  of 
the  man  she  knew  had  come  to  woo  her.  A  slight  dis- 
tressed sound  from  the  motionless  figure  on  the  bed 
in  her  spare  room  made  her  turn.  But  her  eyes  showed 
none  of  the  fear  that  a  while  before  she  had 
felt  for  Steele's  safety.  From  his  vantage  point,  Steele 
had  missed  no  bit  of  the  quickly-played  drama.  His 
face  held  deep  concern,  for  it  had  needed  no  words 
to  convey  to  him  that  he  had  been  the  unwitting  cause 
of  trouble  between  Lora  and  to  him  the  unknown  man 
whom  he  could  have  no  doubt,  however,  held  soft 
feelings  for  the  girl  who  was  already  filling  such  an 
unaccustomed  place  in  his,  Steele's,  own  heart.  But 
he  could  find  no  words. 

*'I'm  sorry,"  was  what  he  said  at  last.  *'Ii  I  had 
known " 

Lora  Humphrey's  merry  laugh  rang  out. 

"Oh,  wasn't  he  funny!"  she  pealed.  '*He  ought  to 
go  on  the  stage!" 

**But "  again  began  Steele.     He  was  trying  to 

make  the  girl  out.    Was  she  acting  for  his  benefit? 

"Oh,  you  don't  know  Hal  Everett!"  she  laughed. 


JUNE  GOLD  83 

"He — he's  so  serious!"  Again  the  infectious  laugh 
rang  out.  A  laugh  that  for  all  its  life  didn't  alto- 
gether fool  the  man  who  for  so  many  years  had  made 
it  his  business  to  read  motives  and  thoughts  from  his 
fellowmen's  (sometimes  women's)  light  talk  and 
laughter.  "Why,  do  you  know,'*  and  the  giggle  be- 
came bubbling,  "I  really  believe  he  was  jealous! 
Wasn't  it  funny?" 

Harrison  Steele  looked  up  into  the  face  of  the  girl 
' — a  face  into  which  the  rich  red  blood  had  flowed  un- 
bidden. Something  seemed  to  grip  him  inside.  It  was 
a  something  which  he  could  not  understand ;  something 
so  new,  yet  so  sweet,  he  would  not  have  missed  it  for 
worlds  of  adventure.  His  own  smile  was  shy  (if  the 
smile  of  a  man  of  the  world  can  be  so  characterized)  ; 
wistful. 

"Was  it?"  he  asked  simply.  His  eyes  met  those 
of  the  girl  who  hurried  toward  the  door  with  her  arms 
filled  with  the  remains  of  his  meal. 

At  the  door  Lora  Humphrey  stopped  and  held  up 
an  admonishing  finger. 

"Now  you  mustn't  talk  any  more — for  an  hour  or 
two  at  least,"  was  her  command.  "You  must  sleep. 
And — if  you  do  as  I  say,  I'll  let  your  friends  come 
and  talk  to  you  again  to-night — tell  you  about  their 
shooting  to-day  and  every  thing " 

"There  are   so  many  things  I  would  rather  hear 


84  JUNE  GOLD 

about **  Harrison  Steele's  voice  held  the  note  of 

querulousness    of    a    child.      "I    want   to    know    all 

about "     Almost  he  had  told  the  girl  again  how 

much  he  wanted  to  know  about  her.  He  checked  him- 
self as  he  added:  'This  is  such  an  interesting  part 
of  the  country — so  little  known  and  all  that — couldn't 
I  persuade  you  to  tell  me  something  about  it  ?  Wasn't 
it  right  about  here  that  old  Cap  Kidd  and  Morgan 
and  some  of  those  old  birds  used  to  hang  out?  Seems 
to  me  I  heard  Car  dwell  bragging  something  of  the 
kind '' 

"Maybe  he  was  talking  about  Teach's  Hole,"  re- 
membered the  girl.  "That  isn't  so  many  miles  from 
here.  It  was  where  Edward  Teach  or  Thatch,  I  be- 
lieve you  Northerners  call  our  old  pirate  (we  call  him 
Black  Beard  hereabouts)  came  to  the  no-good  end 
all  the  story  books  tell  about  of  his  kind.  Oh,  most 
anybody  around  here  can  tell  you  dozens  and  dozens 
of  tales  about  Captain  Kidd  and  Black  Beard  and  the 
rest !" 

"But  won't  you  tell  me?"  Those  who  knew  Har- 
rison Steele  as  the  commanding  force  in  a  Wall  Street 
raid  would  not  have  recognized  the  pleading  in  his 
voice. 

Lora  Humphrey  passed  through  the  door  into  the 
sitting  room  and  half  closed  it. 


JUNE  GOLD  85 

"Go  to  sleep  now/'  she  cooed,  "and  we'll  see. 
Maybe  r 

The  door  closed  softly. 

As  she  stood  on  the  outside  of  the  closed  portal 
and  peered  out  into  the  sunlight  at  the  way  Hal  Ev- 
erett had  taken,  a  seriousness  came  to  the  eyes  that 
a  moment  before  had  been  laughing.  Lora  Humphrey 
remembered  the  look  on  the  face  of  the  man  who  had 
come  to  woo  her.  She  remembered  his  reputation. 
Then  there  came  surging  over  her  the  softness  of 
feeling  she  had  come  to  know  since  she  had  carried 
Harrison  Steele  out  of  the  sea  to  life  and  had  knelt 
by  his  side  to  look  into  his  eyes  opening  into  life.  A 
fear — a  deep  fear  came  into  her  own.  For  the  child 
of  the  hommocks  was,  in  the  vernacular  of  her  own 
people  "skeered"  of  what  might  happen  to  the  man 
she  had  so  unwittingly  and  in  so  short  a  time  come 
to  love. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  violet  veil  of  the  coastal  twilight  was 
dropping  softly  over  purpling  water  and  gray- 
green  bays  and  cypresses  of  the  hommock  land 
when  Hal  Everett's  surf  boat  once  more  grated  on  the 
pebbly  beach  of  Bogue  Sound  a  winding  mile  or  so 
further  down  from  the  small  wharf  in  front  of  the 
Humphrey  home. 

Hours  had  passed  since  he  had  poled  up  the  inlet 
to  visit  Lora  Humphrey  and  had  seen  her  in  such  inti- 
mate converse  with  the  strange  man  who  had  roused 
his  ire  to  the  danger  point.  They  had  been  hours  spent 
in  the  little  town  of  Swansboro  out  on  the  point  where 
the  White  Oak  River  mingles  its  flow  with  the  more 
quiet  waters  of  the  Sound  before  passing  through 
Bogue  Inlet  to  the  turbulent  Atlantic.  It  had  not 
taken  the  coast  guardsman,  maddened  as  he  was,  long 
to  run  his  boat  to  the  little  town  built  in  the  water 
with  its  stores  and  houses  on  pilings.  With  the  sure- 
ness  of  one  who  knows  his  destination  he  had  poled 
himself  right  to  the  back  door  of  a  little  store  where 
he  knew  he  could  get  what  he  wanted.     For  in  the 

wilderness  back  of  Bogue,  there  was  more  corn  liquor 

86 


JUNE  GOLD  87 

and  Monkey  Rum  produced  and  brought  into  the  small 
town  in  trade  than  there  was  mere  corn  from  the 
meager  fields,  or  grain  from  the  still  less  intensely 
cultivated  patches  of  grain. 

Hal  Everett  considered  himself  in  need  of  drink. 
Drink  he  got,  with  no  effort  other  than  asking  for  it 
in  that  town  Vv'here  the  name  of  Volstead  held  as  vague 
a  meaning  as  though  it  might  have  been  one  connected 
with  history  a  hundred  years  before.  As  the  hot  burn- 
ing fluid  had  poured  down  his  eager  maw,  more  and 
more  fixed  had  become  his  determination  for  revenge. 
Strangely  enough,  his  ideas  had  not  run  along  the 
usual  route  of  physical  violence.  There  must  be 
something  more.  His  drink-befuddled  mind  slowly 
worked  itself  around  to  the  point  of  action.  It  was 
with  vast  surprise  that  the  hangers-on  in  the  little 
river-town  store  saw  Hal  Everett,  coast  guardsman 
on  his  off  day,  leave  the  urgings  of  his  companions 
to  have  more,  and  leap  into  his  boat  and  put  off  him- 
self down  stream  before  the  close  of  day. 

The  amazing  capacity  of  Hal  Everett  in  matters 
alcoholic,  how^ever,  had  left  him  in  possession  of  his 
faculties ;  but  as  his  boat  scraped  on  the  beach  and  he 
leaped  ankle  deep  into  the  sand,  there  was  something 
in  his  set  features  to  show  that  a  new  purpose  had 
been  born.  Whether  or  not  this  was  not  greatly  an 
alcoholic  exaltation,  not  even  he  could  have  told,  but 


88  JUNE  GOLD 

as  he  drew  his  boat  closer  inshore  and  turned  toward 
the  clump  of  trees  huddling  in  a  hilly  depression  all 
but  hiding  the  rambling  log  house  in  their  shade,  Hal 
Everett  showed  that  action  was  the  thing  he  wanted; 
action  the  thing  he  was  determined  to  have. 

A  hail  from  the  water  made  him  stop  short. 

"Hi,  there!    Goin'  my  way?" 

Out  of  the  dusk  falling  over  the  graying  waters, 
Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis  poled  his  skiff  with  the  sure- 
ness  of  much  practice  beside  that  of  Hal  Everett  and 
with  an  agility  astonishing  in  one  of  his  age  leapt  out 
on  the  sands. 

"Howdy,  Uncle  Billy  Peter,"  greeted  the  coastman. 
"Thought  I'd  stop  by  for  the  time  of  day — Huntin'?" 
he  inquired  as  the  old  man  shipped  the  rifle  he  had 
held  in  the  crook  of  his  arm. 

Old  man  Willis,  he  of  the  benign  countenance  and 
benevolent  beard,  who  had  so  successfully  evaded  the 
watchfulness  of  old  Theo  Humphrey,  shook  his  head 
mournfully. 

"WTiat  chance  has  a  man  to  get  his  rights  that  God 
Almighty  meant  for  him,"  he  whined,  "when  a  lot 
of  folks  from  the  North'ard  is  all  time  comin'  down 
here  and  thinkin'  they  kin  buy  all  His  feathered  crit- 
ters that  was  meant  for  feedin'  His  lambs — I  mean 
to  say,"  and  Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis  who  didn't  like 
to  spend  money  or  effort  getting  food   for  himself 


JUNE  GOLD  89 

when  it  was  flying  about  in  another's  preserve,  turned 
and  shook  his  fist  in  the  direction  of  the  Card  well 
camp  and  Theophilus  Humphrey's  home.  ''I  mean 
to  say,"  he  repeated,  ^'that  they've  muched  that 
proger  Humphrey  so's  he  won't  let  a  man  git 
a  wild  goat."  So  intent  was  he  on  his  own  wrongs 
that  the  old  man  did  not  notice  the  darkening  flush 
that  spread  over  Hal  Everett's  browned  countenance 
at  his  mention  of  Humphrey. 

"No,"  he  went  on,  "no,  son,  I  only  been  polin*  a 
couple  o'  shoats  and  a  bag  o'  eggs  down  to  the  East- 
ward to  Cap  Taylor's  boat  to  be  took  to  Morehead. 
Even  pore  folks  got  to  live,  and  sakes  alive,  but  I've 

got  my  own  troubles  now "     He  shook  his  white 

head  mournfully.  "That  second  gal  o'  mine  dyin' 
like  she  did  and  leavin*  me  and  Sal  to  keer  for  a 
knee  baby  and  a  breast  one.  Seems  like  they'd  drink 
tip  all  my  cow  beasts  would  give  did  I  let  'em." 

Uncle  Billy  Peter  rambled  on,  heedless  as  to  whether 
the  man  who  had  come  to  pass  the  time  of  day  was 
listening  or  not.  But  it  was  a  sharp  glance  he  gave 
in  Everett's  direction  to  see  whether  he  was  noticed, 
as  his  hand  slid  down  into  the  bottom  of  his  skiff  and 
^something  limp  and  feathered  found  a  hiding  place 
beneath  his  shabby  coat. 

"Come  on  up  to  the  cabin,"  he  invited,  "and  set 


90  JUNE  GOLD 

awhile.  I'll  be  moseyin'  over  to  the  Holiness  prayer 
meetin'  right  soon,  and ** 

Hal  Everett  pretended  a  certain  shyness. 

"I  been  a  thinkin'  a  heap  about  what  you  been  tellin' 
me  about  the  Holiness  folks,  Uncle  Billy  Peter,"  he 
offered,  ''and  seein*  as  I'm  in  w^hat  you  might  call  a 
pree-carous  business,  I  'lowed  as  how  I'd  like  to  talk 
to  you  some  more  about  that  there  salvation  you  was 
tellin'  about,  and " 

Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis  lifted  up  his  gnarled  old 
hands. 

"Praise  be!"  he  thundered.  "Another  lamb  for  the 
fold !" 

They  started  their  climb  of  the  short  hill  to  the 
cabin  in  its  clump  of  trees.  A  small  uncertain  light 
glimmered  hesitantly  from  the  open  cabin  door.  Uncle 
Billy  Peter  stopped  short.  A  sort  of  fury  seemed  to 
shake  him. 

"Well,  I'm  ctarnally  consamed,"  he  spat  out  furi- 
ously. "Now  what  do  you  think  of  that  gal  of  mine! 
Not  even  dark  yit,  and  there's  she  with  a  light  lit !"  He 
hurried  on  ahead  of  his  self-invited  guest.  "Salvation 
Willis!"  he  shouted. 

Hal  Everett  grinned  as  he  saw  the  scared  face  of 
the  slight  girl  who  appeared  in  tlie  cabin  doorway. 
Well  he  knew  what  was  In  store  for  her.  For  Sal 
Willis  had  committed  an  unpardonable  crime  in  the 


JUNE  GOLD  91 

eyes  of  her  father,  head  deacon  in  the  Holiness  Church 
of  Bogue,  suave  old  sinner  masquerading  under  the 
guise  of  reHgion  and  its  benefits,  stingiest  man  in  the 
world,  as  they  called  him  in  this  their  own  world. 
Salvation  Willis  had  wasted  a  quarter  of  a  centos 
worth  of  tallow  candle,  and  Sal  Willis  must  pay — 
some  way.  Of  that  there  could  be  no  doubt.  Uncle 
Billy  Peter  always  made  them  pay  some  way,  be  they 
beast  or  human.  The  visitor  recalled  with  a  smile  the 
times  that  the  old  man's  hard  worked  horses  had  had  to 
pay — an  ear  of  corn  less  at  a  feeding — for  any  time 
a  new  plow  point  was  needed  in  the  Willis  farmyard. 
His  eyes  took  in  the  shining  surface  of  the  old  man's 
hat  as  he  rushed  on  ahead  of  him — the  same  old  hat 
Hal  had  know^n  since  he  first  came  to  the  Bogue  Coast- 
guard Station — the  hat  with  its  painted  surface 
(Uncle  Billy  had  painted  it  those  many  years  ago  to 
keep  it  from  wearing  out)  just  a  little  shinier  with 
the  years.  Hal  Everett  gave  but  a  passing  thought 
to  the  trouble  that  was  in  store  for  Sal  Willis.  She 
was  always  having  it  with  this  father  of  hers,  the 
richest  man  in  the  neighborhood  with  his  vast  acres 
of  plantation  land,  and  the  poorest  by  his  own  accla- 
mation. Once  more  he  was  congratulating  himself  on 
his  own  astuteness  in  searching  out  Uncle  Billy  Peter 
Willis  at  this,  his  own  psychological  moment,  for  it 
was  through  the  old  miser's  own  spleen  against  the 


92  JUNE  GOLD 

proger  Humphrey  and  Humphrey's  family,  of  course, 
that  the  coast  guardsman  sought  to  be  avenged.  The 
miserly  old  Holiness  deacon  was '  without  doubt  the 
weapon  for  his,  Hal's,  own  revenge. 

He  sauntered  leisurely  after  his  host,  gaining  the 
shadow  of  the  darkened  cabin  just  as  Uncle  Billy  Peter 
had  said  his  last  word  to  the  daughter  who  had  been 
wasteful  enough  to  light  a  candle  while  the  daylight 
still  flickered. 

"And  don't  ye  ever  let  me  ketch  ye  doin'  it  again," 
he  heard  the  old  man's  voice  rasp  to  the  girl  who 
whimpered  slight  remonstrance.  *'No  matter  ef  them 
babies  do  cry.    Let  'em.     I'll " 

Through  the  doorway,  Everett's  big  figure  shut  out 
the  last  of  the  daylight. 

''Draw  up  a  cheer  and  set!"  the  deacon  invited 
cordially,  as  though  nothing  unusual  had  happened. 

''We'll  talk  over  this  matter  ye  was  relatin' The 

Lord  is  leadin'  ye "  To  his  daughter,  he  called  over 

his  shoulder  as  he  carefully  hung  up  the  painted  old  hat 
on  a  wooden  peg  outside  the  door — "Bring  a  cheer, 
Sal — and  mind  what  I  tell  ye  about  them  babies 
gittin'  more  milk,  or  I'll  mommock  ye  up  right  smart !" 

Salvation  Willis,  bringing  out  the  chairs  for  her 
father  and  his  guest  which  they  tipped  against  the 
wall  of  the  cabin  as  they  lighted  their  pipes  for  their 


JUNE  GOLD  93 

neighborly  chat,  paused  to  give  Hal  Everett  a  half 
admiring  glance.  In  another  environment,  with 
enough  food,  without  the  huge  burdens  of  caring  for 
her  father's  home  and  working  in  his  fields,  in  addi- 
tion to  caring  for  the  motherless  babies  her  sister  had 
so  carelessly  died  and  left  (the  "knee  baby"  who  could 
almost  walk,  and  the  "breast  baby"  of  three  months 
to  which  their  grandfather  had  referred)  would  have 
been  an  attractive  girl.  But  her  wan  pale  face  with 
its  regular  features  which  were  the  heritage  of  girls 
of  this  hommock  country  from  ancestors  who  had 
come  from  aristocratic  lines  long  ago  in  the  settling 
of  the  country  by  those  from  overseas  whose  adven- 
turous spirit  had  led  them  to  the  new  land,  and  the 
curling  dark  hair  that  framed  the  face  held  no  attrac- 
tion for  the  coast  guardsman.  His  thoughts  were 
further  up  the  sound,  centered  on  the  rosy  beauty  of 
the  athletic,  more  gently  cared  for  Lora  Humphrey 
— and  the  man  whose  hands  she  had  held. 

As  he  listened  to  the  old  man  talk,  Hal  Everett  only 
half-consciously  heard  Sal  Willis,  a  few  moments  later, 
from  somewhere  inside  the  cabin,  from  which  also 
came  the  faint  wail  of  a  hungry  child.  She  was 
crooning  to  the  child.  It  disturbed  him  a  little  as  he 
went  on  with  his  talk  to  the  Holiness  deacon  who 
listened  eagerly  to  what  he  said. 


94  JUNE  GOLD 


"Are  you  washed — in  the  blood 

In  the  soul  cleansing  blood  of  the  Lamb? 
Are  your  garments  spotless, 
Are  you  white  as  snow " 

The  girl  was  singing  inside.  The  infant's  wails 
ceased.  Outside  the  grandfather  leaned  forward  in 
his  chair  to  hear  what  his  guest  was  telling  him. 

"And  then  I  saw "  said  Hal  Everett.    He  leaned 

nearer  to  half  whisper.  Old  Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis 
bent  his  benign  white  head  for  an  eager  hearing.  He 
leapt  to  his  feet  and  smote  one  horned  palm  into  the 
other. 

"Jezebel!"  he  thundered.  His  voice  took  on  the 
tones  of  wrath  of  the  prophet  of  the  Holiness  Church 
of  which  he  was  an  under  prophet  as  he  quoted,  chant- 
ing: "  'And  of  Jezebel  also  spake  the  Lord,  saying, 
the  dogs  shall  eat  Jezebel '  " 

The  grin  that  had  spread  over  Hal  Everett's  face 
sickened  a  little.  Even  in  his  most  revengeful  mo- 
ments he  had  not  quite  made  up  his  mind  that  his 
revenge  included  having  the  curs  of  the  neighborhood 
eat  Lora  Humphrey.  And  he  knew  well  the  temper 
of  the  man  and  the  sect  he  represented  to  carry  through 
anything  in  their  fanatical  zeal.  Uncle  Billy  Peter 
subsided.  He  mouthed  virtuously  after  his  outburst. 
His  thick  thumb — the  same  thumb  that  earlier  in  the 
day  had  not  hesitated  to  throttle  the  birds  that  by  law 


JUNE   GOLD  95 

were  the  property  of  another  man,  jerked  over  his 
shoulder  toward  the  inner  cabin  from  which  came 
faintly  the  diminuendo  crooning  of  his  daughter. 

"ril  look  any  on  'em  straight  in  the  face  and  eyes," 
he  mumbled  over  the  quid  that  got  in  the  way  of  the 
few  teeth  he  still  proudly  showed  in  a  yawning 
vacancy  of  toothless  gums,  "and  say  I  must  pertect 
them '' 

Hal  Everett  nodded.  The  Monkey  Rum  of  Swans- 
boro  was  wearing  off.  It  was  one  of  the  difficulties 
of  being  as  hale  and  strong  as  he  was. 

*'Um-humph!"  he  acquiesced.  'That's  why  I 
thought  the  Holiness  people  ought  to  know — and  if 
I'm  to  be  one  of  them " 

** You'd  not  be  thinkin'  of  bein'  one  of  them 
Methodys  like  The-oph  Humphrey  and  his  daughter, 
would  ye?"  WilHs  was  anxious.  ''Ye'd  be  a-courtin' 
hell,"  he  added. 

'When  I  come  to  the  Lord "  Hal  Everett,  sac- 
rilegious, unholy,  worshiper  only  of  the  flesh  and  the 
material,  spoke  as  the  half-awakened  "sinner,"  "I'll 
come  to  Him  wholly,  believing  He  can  sanctify  and 
cleanse — that  I  can  have  no  pain  nor  sorrow  effen  I 
believe.  I'll  want  no  sinners  about  to  cast  their 
taint '* 

Uncle  Billy  Peters,  saint  in  the  Holiness  Church 
of  Bogue,  rose  rheumatically  from  his  chair.     His 


96  JUNE  GOLD 

white  whiskers  waved  in  the  pine-scented  breeze, 
prophet-Hke.  He  spread  his  hands  benignantly  above 
the  head  of  Hal  Everett  as  there  came  a  faint  plaintive 
bleat  from  an  underfed  mother-cow  in  the  Willis 
dirty  farmyard:  ''Oh,  God!"  he  prayed,  with  closed 
eyes  uplifted:  ''the  heathen  have  come  into  thine  in- 
heritance." 

Back  of  the  wastes  of  sand,  the  sprigs  of  bear 
grass  and  the  haunts  of  giant  turtles,  the  lodge  of 
Grayson  Cardwell  lay  snug  and  secure,  swept  by  the 
gracious  breezes  from  the  Inlet  and  the  ocean  beyond 
through  the  sweet  scented  bays,  and  Virgin  pines, 
dogwood  and  holly s  that  had  taken  on  their  spring 
verdure  to  form  an  almost  impenetrable  protecting 
mass  about  the  log  lodge. 

On  the  wide  porch  of  the  lodge,  with  its  earthy 
smell  from  the  decaying  leaves  of  the  fall  and  winter 
that  the  industrious  Henry  had  hastily  removed,  lolled 
the  owner,  Grayson  Cardwell.  Across  from  him  in 
the  porch  hammock  that  the  negro  had  as  hastily 
swung  while  his  charges  were  busy  with  their  first 
fishing,  lay  Clement  Ashley,  for  once  unconscious  of 
the  fact  that  the  turned-down  collar  of  his  sports  shirt 
showed  a  distinct  line  of  greasy  reminiscence  of  a 
warm  afternoon's  fishing. 

"Thought  I  had  a  shark  on  my  line  that  time," 


JUNE  GOLD  97 

ruefully  he  proclaimed,  glancing  in  the  direction  of 
Meade  who,  from  his  perch  on  the  top  step  was  watch- 
ing the  changing  sky  line  of  purpling  gold  to  duskiest 
blue  through  the  tree  tops.  ''Wouldn't  have  minded 
if  I  had  r    he  boasted. 

From  his  own  comfortable  lolling  in  the  cushioned 
rustic  chair  in  the  porch  corner  Cardwell  drawled: 

"You  don't  know  a  drum — yet!  You  got  a  min- 
now bite,  probably " 

"I  got  wet,"  cut  in  Ashley  sharply.  "Clear  to  my 
waistcoat — if  I'd  had  one " 

"To-morrow,"  said  Cardwell,  "we'll  go  out  after 
the  drum  with  mullet.  Henry  and  Theo'U  get  them 
to-night — somehow.  And  get  this,  Clem — you  can't 
be  a  beauty  and  get  drum  in  the  surf  of  the  Atlantic 
oft"  Bogue  Island.  YouVe  got  to  wade  to  your 
hips " 

A  shrill  whistle  from  the  inlet  landing  side  of  the 
island  cut  short  the  broker's  dissertation  on  fishing. 

"Halloo!"  he  cried.  "Somebody  with  a  message. 
Wonder  if  anything's  wrong  on  the  Humphrey  side 
of  the  inlet."  His  sharply  clapped  hands  brought  the 
wide-smiling  black  Henry  to  the  railing  of  the  lodge 
porch. 

"Leave  the  marsh  hens  to  do  their  worst,  Henry," 
commanded  the  master  of  the  lodge.  "See  who's  pol- 
ing over." 


98  JUNE  GOLD 

The  negro  trotted  obediently  through  the  natural 
avenue  of  cypresses  toward  the  inlet  landing.  In  the 
time  it  took  Meade  to  calculate  the  phenomenal  growth 
of  the  Spanish  moss  that  draped  the  bay  tree  beside 
the  window  of  the  room  in  which  he  was  to  stay,  the 
black  was  back.  He  handed  Cardwell  a  yellow  envel- 
ope, which  the  latter  tore  open  and  carelessly  tossed 
across  the  rustic  porch  rail  to  be  investigated  by  an 
inquisitive  lot  of  stragglers  from  a  black  ant  colony 
which  had  not  yet  called  it  a  day. 

"You  can  take  it  easy,  fellows,"  he  remarked,  as  he 
laid  down  the  message,  "we  can  go  after  drum  heads, 
or  sharks,  or  wild  goats  or  whatever  you  please  that's 
in    season — here's    Captain    Anderson's    reply — can't 

get  here  for  a  week  or  more But  if  you're  thirsty, 

there  are  still  trains  running  from  Morehead 
City " 

Clement  Ashley  yawned  lazily. 

"Where's  that  marsh  hen  I  smell?"  he  asked. 
"Seems  like  I  hadn't  had  anything  to  eat  for  a 
month!"  Then  his  small  face  took  on  the  Puck-like 
appearance  his  friends  liked  or  dreaded,  according 
to  how  they  liked  Ashley.  "A  week,  did  you  say?" 
he  queried  wonderingly.  "How  perfectly  dreadful 
for  Steele!" 


JUNE  GOLD  99 

Down  by  the  swift  running  little  stream  that 
emptied  into  the  inlet  a  few  fathoms  away,  the  silence 
was  suddenly  disturbed  by  an  alert-eyed  rabbit  that 
hopped  excitedly  from  the  thicket,  looked  about  him 
a  moment,  then  at  the  stream;  once  more  back  with 
haunted  eyes  at  the  underbrush  through  which  he  had 
forced  his  way.  Then,  without  a  further  quiver,  he 
leapt  boldly  into  the  running  stream.  Such  a  brave 
little  cottontail!  Bunnys  weren't  made  for  swim- 
ming! Out  of  the  same  underbrush  a  moment  later, 
stalked  a  beady-eyed  mink — with  a  fur  coat,  frayed 
a  little  but  still  with  a  striped  glossiness  that  would 
have  made  many  a  Fifth  Avenue  lady  sit  up  and  notice. 
His  pointed  nose  led  his  scent  instinct  to  the  brink  of 
the  swift-flowing  stream.  Almost  across  it,  his  beady 
eyes  made  out  his  quarry,  floundering  in  the  swiftness 
of  water.  Rabbits  weren't  made  for  swimming.  He 
took  off  into  the  stream.  The  swift  darkness  of  the 
night  closed  down.    Good  luck,  Rabbit ! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN  spite  of  all  his  wishes  to  the  contrary,  two  days 
after  Lora  Humphrey  had  rescued  him  from  a 
watery  grave  Harrison  Steele  was  almost  as  well 
as  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life.  Better  in  some  ways, 
for  any  further  alcoholic  stimulant  than  that  which 
had  first  been  poured  down  the  drowning  man's  throat 
had  been  tabooed  by  the  girl.  Steele  couldn't  help  get- 
ting well.  It  would  not  have  been  gratitude  to  his 
faithful  nurse  not  to.  The  hours  that  kept  him  near 
her  seemed  fairly  to  fly  by  and  had  it  not  been  for  his 
faithful  ally,  Dr.  Parson  of  Swansboro,  who  was  still 
anxious  that  the  rich  New  York  broker  should  not  re- 
cover too  fast,  those  hours  would  have  been  still  fewer. 
Thanks  to  him,  Steele  was  still  domiciled  in  the  Hum- 
phrey home  enjoying  the  ever-increasing  delightful 
companionship  of  the  old  guide's  daughter,  while  the 
others  who  had  come  to  North  Carolina  with  him  on  a 
far  different  mission  were  passing  their  enforced  wait- 
ing in  Cardwell's  hunting  lodge  on  Bogue  Island, 
or  hunting  and  fishing. 

No  longer  was  he  propped  up  among  the  giant  pil- 

100 


JUNE  GOLD  101 

lows  in  the  white-curtained  spare  room,  though,  but 
had  been  advanced  to  the  slanting  old  wooden  porch 
with  its  homey  touch  of  outdoor  living  that  the  girl 
had  accomplished  with  her  hammock,  bright  colored 
pillows,  table  and  books  and  magazines  and  jars  of 
flowering  plants  and  vines. 

It  was  from  this  vantage  point  and  his  comfortable 
splint  bottomed  armchair  that  the  broker  sat  two 
nights  after  his  accident,  idly  watching  the  channel 
lights  appear  and  the  smaller  flickers  on  land  that 
showed  the  Humphrey's  neighbors  were  lighting  up 
their  homes  for  the  evening.  From  inside  the  house 
he  could  hear  Lora  singing  as  she  completed  her  duties 
for  the  day.  Harrison  Steele  sighed  contentedly  as  he 
scratched  a  match  on  the  splint  bottomed  chair  and 
lighted  his  cigarette.  He  looked  up  with  a  smile  to  see 
the  girl  standing  in  the  doorway,  the  lighted  lamp  in 
the  room  behind  her  forming  a  halo  for  her  midnight 
hair.    She  shook  an  admonishing  finger  at  him. 

''Mustn't  stay  out  so  late !"  she  chided.  "Night  air 
isn't  good  for  invaUds." 

Steele  laughed. 

"Wish  I  could  think  I  was  an  invalid,"  he  assured 
her.  "It's  the  finest  sensation  I've  ever  known  in  my 
life."  He  looked  out  over  the  shadowy  trees  and 
pointed.  "I  was  just  wondering,"  he  mused,  "what 
those  particular  lights  were  way  over  there.     They 


102  JUNE  GOLD 

seem  to  be  so  peculiar — sort  of  come  and  go— See! 
Away  down  beyond  the  point.'' 

For  a  flash,  the  girl  glanced  peculiarly  at  her  guest, 
then  she  laughed  as  she  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hands 
and  peered  out  into  the  darkness. 

"Are  you  seeing  the  Money  Lights  ?"  she  teased  him. 
"I  don't  seem  to  see  anything " 

"They're  gone  now,"  said  Steele — "but  Money 
Lights,  what  are  they?  Can't  say  I've  ever  had  my 
way  to  money  much  lighted." 

A  humorous  expression  flitted  over  the  girl's  face, 
to  be  replaced  by  a  half  seriousness  as  of  one  who  be- 
lieved something  even  against  will  and  better  judg- 
ment. "Were  they  over  that  way?"  she  pointed  as 
she  spoke,  and  at  Steele's  nod,  she  went  on :  "Then  it's 
a  good  thing  my  father  didn't  see  them.  Your  party 
would  be  without  a  guide  for  a  day  or  two,  though 
they  never  would  know  what  had  become  of  him. 
Father's  been  chasing  those  money  lights  for  a  good 
many  years  now,  just  like  most  everybody  else  in  this 
neighborhood,  but  just  like  everybody  else,  he  wouldn't 
confess  it  for  a  new  plantation.  There  are  a  lot  of 
holes  dug  in  the  sand  dunes  and  around  Teach's  Hole 
and  Ocracobe  to  the  Eastward  that  show  there's  been 
many  a  silent  hunt,  though " 

"Tell  me  about  this  Teach  person,  won't  you?" 
asked   Steele.     "You've  been  promising,   but  you've 


JUNE   GOLD  103 

been  so  busy  just  waiting  on  me,  with  everything 
else  you  have  to  do,  that  you've  never  got  around 
to  it." 

The  girl  came  out  onto  the  porch  and  sat  down  on 
the  top  one  of  the  rickety  wooden  steps.  She  clasped 
her  hands  about  her  knees  and  stared  out  into  the 
darkness  with  its  flickering  points  of  lights  among  the 
dark  masses  of  bay  trees  and  evergreens. 

"Well,  you  must  promise  not  to  laugh  if  I  do,"  she 
began.  ''Sometimes  I  tell  myself  I  don't  believe  any 
of  these  stories  I've  been  hearing  all  my  life,  but  then 
again  I  know  I  do.  One  can't  be  brought  up  with 
legends  and  rumors  and  take  them  as  fairy  tales." 

Harrison  Steele  solemnly  made  a  gesture  he  had 
not  made  since  childhood. 

"Cross  my  heart  and  hope  to  die,"  he  assured. 

"Probably  you've  already  heard  something  of  the 
vague  rumors  afloat  in  this  section  of  buried  treasure 
and  pirates  and  things,"  she  continued.  "They  have 
some  foundation  in  fact,  for  it  was  right  here  that 
Captain  Kidd  and  Morgan  and  the  still  more  infamous 
Edward  Teach,  or  Black  Beard,  as  he  was  better 
known,  had  their  stamping  ground.  There  isn't  a 
doubt  in  my  mind  that  there  is  treasure  buried  some- 
where hereabout,  for  those  naughty  old  pirates  never 
had  a  chance  to  take  it  away — Black  Beard,  especially, 
for  he  was  killed  in  that  place  that  has  become  known 


104  JUNE  GOLD 

as  Teaches  Hole.  There  is  just  one  thing  that  makes 
me,  in  spite  of  any  better  judgment  I  might  have,  be- 
lieve that  there  really  is  treasure  hidden  somewhere 
hereabouts — that  is,  that  while  for  ages  we've  heard 
of  money  seekers,  weVe  never  yet  heard  of  any  money 
finders.  And  what  isn't  found  must  still  be  there. 
And  of  course  you  know  that  the  accumulations  of 
those  old  pirates  was  immense;  it's  a  matter  of 
history." 

"Good  enough  logic,"  commented  Steele,  as  he 
watched  the  girl,  the  wonder  growing  within  him  as 
to  what  had  happened  to  him  where  she  was  con- 
cerned. Why  was  it  that  this  girl,  out  of  all  the 
women  in  the  world,  had  the  power  to  so  quicken  his 
heretofore  woman-impervious  heart?  Her  beauty — 
but  he  had  known  many  other  beautiful  women.  Her 
strange  mixture  of  rural  simplicity  and  naivete  with 
the  polish  gained  from  her  experiences  in  the  outer 
world?  Steele  gave  it  up.  He  leaned  back,  closely 
watching  her  as  she  gazed  out  into  the  darkness,  con- 
tent for  the  moment  in  the  sweetness  that  her  nearness 
brought  to  him.  He  wished  this  time  could  go  on  in- 
definitely. He  had  no  mind  to  think  of  the  time 
when  she  would  not  be  with  him.    He  spoke  again. 

"I'm  sorry  to  acknowledge  my  ignorance,"  he  told 
her,  "but  you'll  have  to  tell  me  more  about  your 
pirates.    Of  course,  I've  always  heard  vaguely  of  Cap- 


JUNE   GOLD  105 

tain  Kidd  and  I^Iorgan,  but  believe  I  rather  thought 
them  mythical  characters.  As  for  your  Black  Beard — 
well,  who  was  the  gentleman?" 

Lora  Humphrey  glanced  up  in  real  amaze. 

"You  really  don't  know?"  Her  arched  eyebrows 
lifted.  ''Oh,  he  was  very  real,  I  assure  you,  and  if  he 
were  wandering  around  here  now  (and  hereabouts 
were  once  his  haunts)  we  wouldn't  be  sitting  so  se- 
curely on  this  porch.     We've  been  told  marvelous 

things  about  him,   but — wait  a  moment "      She 

jumped  lightly  to  her  feet  and  ran  into  the  sitting  room 
behind  Steele.  In  a  moment  she  returned  bearing  a 
heavy  volume  and  the  lamp  which  she  placed  on  the 
small  table.  "You  don't  need  to  believe  our  legends/* 
she  went  on,  "just  listen  what  the  Encyclopedia  has 
to  say."  She  opened  the  volume  as  she  spoke,  stopping 
to  give  its  cover  a  light  caress.  "One  of  my  chief 
treasures,"  she  offered  in  parenthesis.    "Ah,  here  it  is: 


t(  (^ 


'EDWARD  TEACH,'  she  read,  'English  pirate,  popH- 
larly  known  as  Black  Beard,  is  believed  to  have  been  born 
at  Bristol.  He  is  said  to  have  gone  out  to  the  West  Indies 
during  the  war  of  the  Spanish  Succession,  to  have  engaged 
in  privateering,  and  after  the  declaration  of  peace  (1713) 
to  have  turned  pirate.  But  he  is  not  actually  heard  of  in 
this  capacity  till  the  end  of  1716.  The  following  year  he 
captured  a  large  French  merchantman,  re-christened  her 
''Queen  Anne's  Revenge,"  and  converted  her  into  a  war- 
ship of  forty  guns.  His  robberies  and  outrages  in  the 
Spanish  Main,  the  West  Indies,  and  on  the  coasts  of  Caro- 


106  JUNE  GOLD 

lina  and  Virginia,  quickly  earned  him  an  infamous  no- 
toriety. He  made  his  winter  quarters  in  a  convenient  inlet 
in  North  Carolina *  " 

"That's  our  own  Bogue  Inlet,"  she  informed,  glanc- 
ing up  at  the  man  who  sat  wiitching  her  flushed  face 
as  it  bent  over  the  big  volume  laid  out  under  the  lamp 
whose  flame  was  flickering  unsteadily  in  the  soft  night 
breeze.  She  glanced  quickly  down  at  the  printed  page 
and  read  on : 


ti  ( 


-the  governor  of  which  Colony  was  not  above  shar- 


ing in  the  proceeds  of  his  crimes ' " 

Harrison  Steele  grinned. 

"So  they  did  it  even  then — the  men  higher  up,"  he 
interpolated. 


t: 


-but  the  governor  of  Virginia  at  last  despatched  two 
sloops,  manned  from  the  British  war  ships  on  the  station, 
to  cut  him  out.  On  the  22nd  of  November,  1718,  Lieutenant 
Ma^mard,  commanding  the  attacking  forces,  boarded  Teach's 
sloop,  after  a  sharp  fight,  and  himself  shot  the  pirate 
dead " 


Lora  closed  the  book  and  looked  up. 

"And  so  ended  Edward  Teach,  or  Black  Beard," 
she  said.  "But  if  he  had  been  a  good  man  his  memory- 
could  not  have  lived  any  more  than  it  does  hereabouts 
— for  he  never  had  time  to  get  the  money  he  had  hid- 
den, and  I  don't  suppose  there's  a  child  in  this  part  of 


JUNE  GOLD  107 

North  Carolina  who  has  grown  to  man  or  womanhood 
without  having  taken  a  try  at  finding  it.  Especially 
about  Teach's  Hole  to  the  Eastward — the  place  he  was 
killed " 

"Have  you?"  Steele  asked  her,  a  teasing  light  in  his 
eyes  reflected  by  the  lamp's  rays. 

Strangely  enough,  however,  Lora  did  not  smile 
back. 

"I  know  you'll  laugh  at  me,"  she  said,  "but  you 
must  remember  I  was  born  here,  and  I  can't  help  be- 
lieving there  is  some  treasure  hidden  somewhere,  and 
I've  always  intended  to  search  for  it  some  time — but 
in  a  more  methodical  way  than  most.  Why,  you'll 
find  hundreds  of  holes  dug  all  over  the  sand  dunes — 
dug  by  people  who  have  stolen  off  by  themselves  when 
they  have  thought  they  saw  the  'Money  Lights,*  those 
mysterious  lights  which  legend  says  appear  from  time 
to  time  to  show  the  hiding  places.  I  know  father  has 
done  it  more  than  once.  But  my  private  opinion  is 
that  most  of  the  lights  were  merely  from  lanterns  in 
the  hands  of  some  other  secret  hunters.  It  has  come 
to  be  such  a  joke  that  no  one  will  admit  a  treasure 
hunting  jaunt,  for  the  joke  has  always  been  on  the 
hunters  when  they  have  returned  from  their  profitless 
expeditions.  Some  day  I'm  going  to  hunt,  too,  though, 
no  doubt." 

Harrison  Steele  sat  ruminating.     It  all  seemed  so 


108  JUNE  GOLD 

unreal,  this  talk  of  pirates  who  had  once  made  their 
stamping  ground  in  the  very  locality  in  which  he  sat — 
a  locality  which  could  not  by  any  stretch  of  the  imagi- 
nation seem  other  than  it  was  at  its  peaceful  present. 

"I  always  thought  Td  like  to  have  known  Teach.'* 
The  girl  dimpled.  "He  must  have  been  such  a  pic- 
turesque old  villain — with  that  long  black  beard  of  his 
all  tied  up  with  ribbons  and  curled  back  over  his  ears. 
Can't  you  picture  him?" 

Steele  looked  at  her,  his  glance  showing  his  ap- 
proval of  her  straight  young  figure,  her  curling  hair 
and  the  skin  with  its  peach  blow  touched  to  a  glowing 
by  the  dim  light. 

"You  would  not  have  stood  much  chance,"  was  his 
admiring  comment.  "He  would  have  carried  you 
away  in  a  jiffy,  as  one  of  his  choicest  treasures." 

Blushing  at  the  broad  compliment,  the  girl  caught 
up  the  book  and  started  into  the  house. 

"Now  don't  stay  out  here  too  long,"  she  again  ad- 
monished in  her  best  professional  manner.  "You 
don't  want  a  relapse " 

"What  say  we  make  up  a  two-some  and  have  a 
treasure  hunting  party  of  our  own  some  day?"  the 
broker  called  out  after  her.  "I'll  promise  to  get  as 
well  as  well  if  you  will!" 

From  the  doorway,  the  girl  who  was  coming  to  have 


JUNE  GOLD  109 

such  a  disconcerting  place  in  his  scheme  of  things  sur- 
veyed him.    She  was  half  serious,  half  laughing. 

"You  wouldn't  tell  ?" 

"Never  a  tell !"  Steele  shook  his  head  so  vigorously 
that  the  shock  of  thick  hair  protested. 

"Maybe "  she  began,  then  her  laughter  bubbled 

out.  "To  think,"  she  chided,  "that  a  wise  broker  from 
New  York  could  stoop  to  digging  in  the  sands  for 
treasure.  Seems  to  me  I've  always  been  told  treasure 
for  men  like  you  came  out  of  stocks  and  bonds,  and 
somehow  mysteriously  out  of  tall  stone  buildings  and 
a  lot  of  talk  and  noise." 

Steele  seemed  to  take  no  notice  of  her  jibing  as  his 
hand  sought  and  found  a  match  and  he  relighted  the 
cigarette  that  had  gone  out  as  the  girl  had  read  to  him. 

"Treasure,"  he  announced,  musingly  and  in  the 
admonitor>^  tone  of  a  philosopher,  "is,  I  have  always 
been  led  to  believe,  a  somewhat  relative  term.  Now 
it  seems  to  me — do  you  remember  it,  I  wonder — 
that  somewhere  I've  heard  something  about  a  man's 
treasure  being  where  his  heart  is " 

He  looked  past  the  smoke  ring  he  blew  to  find  that 
the  girl  was  gone;  had  sHpped  noiselessly  away.  An- 
other smoke  ring  went  up  to  chase  the  first.  He  re- 
garded them  contemplatively. 

"Treasure "  he  murmured  softly.    But  the  soft- 


110  JUNE  GOLD 

ness  that  came  into  his  eyes,  the  tenderness  of  the  tone 
that  whispered  the  word  would  have  been  illuminative 
to  the  girl  who  had  left  him  could  she  have  seen  them. 
It  w^as  a  strange,  an  unusual  country  to  which 
chance  had  led  Harrison  Steele,  he  thought.  A 
country  that  was  old ;  far  older  than  the  ever-changing 
new  city  which  he  had  so  recently  left  on  a  quest  which 
after  only  these  few  days  seemed  to  him  so  futile,  so 
rather  beneath  him.  Well,  he  thought,  that  hydro- 
plane had,  in  a  way  dropped  him  down  into  his  right 
niche.  He  was  a  pirate  himself — or  certainly  planned 
becoming  one.  He  wondered  if  after  all  he  really 
wanted  drink  badly  enough  to  take  the  method  pro- 
posed by  Cardwell,  Ashley,  Meade  and  himself  to  get 
it.  Then  thoughts  rose  up  to  urge  him  on.  It  was 
not  so  much  the  liquor  he  wanted,  he  argued.  But  he 
would  not  have  any  man,  any  government  on  earth, 
even  his  own,  tell  him  he  shouldn't  have  anything.  He 
was  quite  as  much  pirate  at  heart  right  then,  as  any  of 
those  who  had  sailed  the  main  in  the  old  days  and 
sought  shelter  in  the  very  part  of  the  country  where 
he  now  sat  and  gazed  out  at  the  quiet  night,  felt  the 
soft  wind  blowing  his  tanned  cheek,  watched  the 
wavering  lights  in  the  cypressed  darkness.  They  had 
not  alone  been  such  men  as  the  infamous  Black  Beard, 
or  Captain  Kidd  or  Morgan  who  had  found  piracy  to 
their  liking  or  profit  in  the  old  days.    He  thought  back 


JUNE  GOLD  111 

to  his  university  days.  There  had  been  Sellers.  Fine 
chap,  Sellers.  He  had  been  from  North  Carolina. 
One  night  that  little  prig  of  a  Wyckoff  had  been  brag- 
ging, as  usual,  about  his  blue  blood,  his  ancestry.  If 
Wyckoff  had  it,  it  was  about  the  only  thing  he  had. 
In  some  way,  the  talk  had  come  around  to  Sellers'  own 
progenitors.  Now  if  there  was  ever  a  gentlemen.  Sel- 
lers had  been  one.  He  had  been  a  general  favorite. 
Steele  remembered  the  laugh  that  had  gone  up  when 
Sellers  talked. 

*'Yes,"  he  had  told  them,  "once  I  thought  I  was  just 
full  of  ancestry.  I  didn't  think  there  was  any  one  in 
the  country  who  had  it  on  me.  We  were  such  real 
Americans  down  where  I  came  from  that  I  thought 
all  I  had  to  do  was  to  trace  back  and  have  a  little 
chronology  that  would  make  the  Almanac  de  Gotha 
look  sick,  so  I  started  tracing.  For  a  generation  or  so 
everything  was  all  right — statesmen,  a  well-known 
professional  man  or  two,  a  few  rather  famous  orators. 
Then  things  began  to  get  a  little  squally.  I  went  on 
with  my  search  a  while  longer — but  I  stopped.  I  got 
to  a  point  where  I  realized  if  I  lived  just  one  more 
generation  backward,  I  was  going  to  find  pirates.  And 
I  just  wasn't  going  to  do  it!" 

That  was  the  way  it  was  with  the  Carolinas.  Pirac}^ 
was  one  of  the  things  which  first  flourished  best  when 
America  was  in  the  making.  It  had  almost  reached  re- 


in  JUNE  GOLD 

spectability.  But  as  the  colonies  grew  more  settled,  it 
became  intolerable  to  the  inhabitants  and  gradually 
died  out.  Except  where  it  lingered  on  the  coast  of 
North  Carolina  where,  for  many  a  long  day  it 
flourished  because  the  robbers  could  either  terrorize 
the  scattered  inhabitants  or  were  encouraged  by  dis- 
honest officials.  Even  when  the  most  notorious  were 
killed,  it  was  a  known  fact  that  some  of  the  very  men 
who  had  been  in  at  the  death  of  robbers  like  Edward 
Teach  had  themselves  taken  to  piracy  later.  So  strong 
were  the  piratical  traditions  in  the  New  World  that 
even  men  of  supposed  good  standing  often  fell 
into  it. 

A  heavy  crunch  on  the  graveled  path  roused  Steele 
from  his  revery.  Theophilus  Humphrey  lumbered  to- 
ward the  lighted  porch,  coming  from  the  lodge  where 
he  had  seen  Steele's  companions  settled  for  the  night, 
exhausted  after  their  day  of  sport.  The  old  guide 
pounded  up  the  porch  steps  and  pulled  forward  a  chair 
into  which  he  slumped  heavily. 

*'Howdy,"  he  addressed  his  guest.  "How  you  come 
on?"  But  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  continued. 
*'Got  a  rale  good  skeer,  son,  jest  a  spell  ago.  I  was 
moseyin'  along  on  my  way  home — I  left  the  skiff  a 
ways  down  to  the  west'ard — a-thinkin'  about  that 
there  wild  hog  hunt  them  fellers  want,  and  a-wonderin' 
what  that  Mr.  Ashley  would  say  did  he  meet  up  with 


JUNE  GOLD  113 

one "  A  wide  smile  spread  over  his  leathered  old 

features.  Steele,  too,  grinned  broadly  at  the  picture 
conjured  up.  " — and  suddenly  the  bushes  parted  and 
old  Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis  jumps  right  out  into  my 
face  and  eyes  with  them  white  whiskers  of  his'n 
wavin'  in  the  shadders. 

"  'Howdy,  Uncle  Billy  Peter,'  says  I.  'What  you 
mean  jumpin'  out  at  a  man  like  you  was  a  panther  or 
somethin'  ? 

"He  didn't  answer  me  like  a  white  man  had  oughter 
for  a  minute,  then  his  eyes  was  all  a  shinin'  queer 
when  he  sort  o'  hissed  at  me : 

"  I'm  saved,  sanctified,  and  I'm  er  goin'  to  git  the 
Holy  Ghost,'  says  he. 

"  Tine !'  says  I.  *You  reckon  Salvation  Willis  is 
goin'  to  find  it  out?' 

*'He  jes'  kept  a  glarin'  at  me. 

"  'The  curse  of  God  on  all  unbelievers,'  says  he. 
*I'm  goin'  to  git  the  Holy  Ghost,  then  you'll  find  out 
something,  Th'ophilus  Humphrey — you  and  yourn !' 

*'  'You  hadn't  ought  to  be  a  techin'  Monkey  Rum  at 
your  age.  Uncle  Billy  Peter,'  says  I.  But  he  just  lifted 
up  both  his  fists  and  shook  'em  at  me  and  run  away. 
But  I  will  say  the  way  he  jumped  out  at  me  if  I'd  had 
my  gun  I'd  a  let  loose  both  hulls  at  him." 

"What  do  you  suppose  he  meant?"  asked  Steele. 
"What  has  he  against  you  ?" 


114  JUNE  GOLD 

Old  Humphrey  laughed  heartily. 

*'0h,  he's  got  a-plenty  agin  me,"  he  averred  with  a 
knowing  nod  and  wink.  "He  hain't  got  my  farm  for 
one  thing — and  he  would  a  had  it  effen  I  hadn't  got 
this  here  job  with  Mr.  Cardwell.  I  hain't  a-worrin' 
any  about  Uncle  Billy  Peter,  though,"  he  continued, 
"no  tellin'  what  he  meant — if  anything.  He's  a  Holi- 
nesser,  and  they  git  that  way  when  they  feel  full  of 
religion — can't  say  his  religion  has  ever  made  him 
want  to  feed  his  family,  though " 

Steele  was  interested. 

"A  Holinesser?"  he  queried,  not  understanding. 

Humphrey  nodded. 

"Yes,"  was  his  explanation,  "a  member  of  the  Holi- 
ness band  down  here.  You  know  we  got  two  kind  o' 
religions  down  here  on  the  coast — the  Holiness  and 
the  Methodys  (though  the  Holinessers  think  the 
Methodys  are  a  kind  o'  worshipin'  the  devil  because 
we  don't  yell  so  much  at  meeting,  and  have  doctors 
when  we're  sick — I'm  a  Methody — and  don't  see  no 
special  salvation  in  handling  hot  lamp  chimneys  and 
pizen  reptiles  while  a-shoutin'  and  hollerin'  in  un- 
known tongues) .  Oh,  we  git  along — we  Methodys  and 
Holinessers,  jes'  like  two  strange  cats  tied  up  in  a 
bag.  'Nother  thing — we  Methodys  got  only  one 
variety  o'  religion — have  a  hard  enough  time  gittin' 
that  and  a-holdin'  it,  but  it  appears  the  Holiness  got 


JUNE  GOLD  115 

three  separate  and  distinct  brands.  They  git  saved, 
then  they  git  sanctified,  then  when  they  git  the  Thirty- 
third  degree  they  git  tlie  Holy  Ghost.  They's  not 
much  Hvin'  for  'em  when  they  git  the  Holy 
Ghost " 

*'Do  they  cause  trouble?" 

"Oh,  we  hain't  afeared  of  'em,  if  you  mean  that,  but 
they  git  pretty  obstreperous  sometimes  and  then  we 
got  to  run  'em  out.  Be  better  maybe,  if  we  run  'em 
out  for  keeps."  His  tone  of  tolerance  changed  a  bit  to 
something  more  serious.  *'I  hain't  one  who  holds 
with  the  Holinessers,"  he  went  on.  ''They're  fanatics, 
yes,  sir,  fanatics — and  iggerant  no  end — and  while 
they  seem  harmless  enough,  you  never  can  tell  what 
anybody's  goin'  to  do  when  he  gits  all  wrought  up  to 
a  frenzy,  whether  it's  in  the  name  of  religion  or  no. 
Sometime  or  other  we're  going  to  be  sorry  hereabouts 
for  lettin'  'em  run  on  so." 

"Sounds  rather  interesting,  though,"  commented 
Steele.    "Sort  of  rural  vaudeville  show,  I  should  say." 

"Git  Lory  to  take  you  to  some  of  their  meetin's  some 
time,"  advised  the  old  man,  as  he  rose  and  pushed  his 
chair  back  to  the  porch  wall.  "When  you  hear  'em 
all  a  gabbin'  and  hollerin'  to  oncet,  you'll  think  we  need 
an  insane  asylum  for  'em,  instead  of  a  church.  Well, 
I'm  going  to  turn  in.  Got  a  big  day  planned  for  to- 
morrow on  the  island.    Comin'  in  ?" 


116  JUNE  GOLD 

Steele  tossed  away  the  end  of  his  cigarette  and  rose 
with  his  host. 

"This  certainly  is  a  wonderful  place  you  have,"  he 
complimented.  "I  hate  to  go  into  the  house  at  all. 
Think  Til  feel  well  enough  to  get  over  to  the  island  in 
a  day  or  two  for  a  try  myself  at  some  of  that  great 
fishing,  wild  boar  and  goat  hunting  you're  all  brag- 
ging about.'' 


CHAPTER  IX 

TWICE  more  the  moon  set  and  the  sun  rose  rosily 
over  the  spring  sweetness  of  morass  and 
wooded  hills.  More  and  more  was  Harrison 
Steele  contented  in  the  ways  in  which  Fate  had  set 
his  steps;  more  and  more  he  wished  for  the  yacht 
hurrying  from  Florida  waters  to  be  delayed.  He 
hated  to  think  that  the  calm,  sweet  days  and  delicious 
evening  companionship  with  Lora  Humphrey,  who 
had  awakened  in  him  that  thing  of  which  he  had 
hitherto  not  known,  must  soon  be  over.  But  must 
they?  He  had  begun  to  think  more  than  idly  of  their 
continuance.  He  had  not  yet  fully  accustomed  him- 
self to  the  thought  of  abandoning  his  benedict  days, 
but  such  thoughts  became  more  and  more  insistent  as 
he  watched  the  girl  in  the  dainty  gingham  frocks  she 
had  once  more  donned  since  there  was  now  no  use 
for  her  trained  nurse  uniform,  heard  her  singing  about 
her  work,  as  alive,  as  much  a  part  of  the  scene  about 
her  as  the  thrushes  that  warbled  by  day  or  the  whip- 
poorwills  that  made  the  nights  musical. 

Over  in  the  lodge  on  the  island  there  was  more 
restlessness,  more  unwillingness  to  go  on  with  their 

117 


118  JUNE  GOLD 

rural  existence,  more  fretfulness  to  be  up  and  about 
the  business  that  had  brought  them  to  Cardvveirs  lodge 
in  this  off  season.  Undoubtedly  it  was  the  occurrence 
of  two  nights  before  that  had  much  to  do  with  this, 
for  it  was  then  that  Henry  had  mixed  the  last  drop 
of  Cardwell's  small  supply  of  liquid  refreshment.  It 
had  been  with  great  ceremony  that  the  mint  juleps 
had  been  accepted  and  the  last  drop  drained.  With 
the  lesson  of  their  friend  Russel  in  mind,  the  hunters, 
thirsting  for  their  accustomed  stimulant,  had  not  made 
up  their  minds  to  resorting  to  the  native  Monkey  Rum 
or  the  white  corn  whisky  which  at  least  one  of  the 
coast  guardsmen  and  the  progers  of  the  neighbor- 
hood consumed  with  so  much  gusto. 

Clement  Ashley  had  risen  from  his  hammock  at 
last  with  a  groan.  The  empty  glass  he  still  held  he 
observed  gloomily.  Then  he  had  hurled  it  with  all  his 
force  against  the  boll  of  a  bay  tree  where  it  smashed 
to  bits,  some  of  them  shining  back  leeringly  from 
where  they  had  caught  in  the  long  trailing  Spanish 
moss. 

"Good-bye,  old  top,"  he  sighed.  "You've  done 
good  service,  but  you're  not  needed  now." 

He  strolled  off  down  the  paths  between  the  shadowy 
trees.    Meade  called  to  him. 

"What  in  the  world  are  you  doing,  Clem — walking 
around  out  there  in  the  dark." 


JUNE  GOLD  119 

Ashley's  voice  came  to  the  men  on  the  porch,  hollow, 
lugubrious. 

"I'm  looking  for  a  sail,"  he  replied. 

Rain  came  the  next  morning,  with  a  mist  that  ob- 
scured the  ocean  across  the  sand  dunes.  Hunting 
was  out  of  the  question — weather  did  make  some 
difference  to  at  least  two  of  these  city  sportsmen,  and 
Cardwell  seemed  to  have  no  ambition  to  go  out  alone. 

"Let's  get  Henry  to  pole  us  across  the  Inlet  over 
to  the  mainland,"  he  suggested  when  their  belated 
breakfast  had  been  completed.  "About  time  we  had 
a  look  at  our  invalid." 

"And  about  time  we  had  a  talk  with  him  about  our 
next  move,"  agreed  Meade  as  he  lazily  pushed  back 
his  rustic  chair  from  the  table  with  its  cloth  wet  from 
the  penetrating  dampness  that  was  so  accentuated  by 
the  massed  verdure  about  the  lodge.  "You  know  we 
haven't  really  had  time  to  plan  much — first  leaving 
New  York  with  such  hurried  enthusiasm,  then  the 
accident.  I,  for  one,  am  for  caution,  too — these  papers 
the  old  man  has  been  bringing  us  are  showing 
a  pretty  dangerous  activity  on  the  part  of  the  Pro- 
hibition fleet." 

Cardwell  nodded. 

"Yes,"  he  admitted,  "and  we'll  want  to  know  what 
to  do  in  a  day  or  so.  The  Falcon  really  ought  to  be 
sighted  now  any  time." 


120  JUNE  GOLD 

''Hurray!    Hurray!'*  chimed  Clem  Ashley,  weakly. 

Two  hours  later  black  Henry  poled  his  skiff  up 
to  the  Humphrey  dock.  Three  wet  and  rather  woe- 
begone adventurers  shook  the  drops  from  their  clothes 
as  best  they  could  as  they  climbed  out  on  the  wetter 
beach.  The  hommock  home  was  shrouded  in  the 
over-hanging  mist,  but  it  looked  good  to  the  men  who 
trudged  toward  it,  chilled  by  their  damp  clothing  and 
the  unseasonable  cool  that  had  come  with  the  rain. 

From  the  armchair  where  he  was  seated  in  the 
Humphrey  sitting-room  beside  a  fire  of  crackling  logs, 
Harrison  Steele  looked  up  to  greet  his  friends. 

"Hello,  strangers,"  he  called,  dropping  his  maga- 
zine on  the  floor  beside  him.  "  'Come  in  and  draw  up 
cheers.'  " 

Lora  Humphrey  fluttered  in  from  the  rear  some- 
where to  greet  the  newcomers  shyly.  She  noticed 
their  wet  garments. 

"Oh,  you're  wet,"  she  commiserated.  "J^^t  sit 
down  and  dry  out  a  bit."  She  looked  around  at 
them,  "I  prescribe  coffee,"  she  announced,  pro- 
fessionally. She  darted  to  the  side  of  the  fire- 
place and  tossed  a  fresh  stick  on  the  fire  before 
either  of  the  men  who  leapt  forward  to  perform  the 
task  for  her  could  reach  her.  Her  merry  laughter 
rang  out.    "Oh,  I'm  used  to  that,"  she  explained.    "We 


JUNE  GOLD  121 

iwoodswomen   are   expected   to   do   little   things   like 
that " 

"And  jump  into  the  inlet  and  save  any  stray  drown- 
ing men  who  happen  along,  in  the  course  of  the  day's 
affairs?"  queried  Cardwell,  smiling. 

Lora,  too,  smiled  as  she  hurried  from  the  room  to 
bring  coffee  as  though  the  matter  were  nothing. 

Clement  Ashley  got  up  and  leaned  over  Steele.  He 
took  one  of  his  wrists  and  felt  it.  He  shook  his  head 
ominously  as  he  glanced  up,  first  at  his  companions, 
then  at  the  door  through  which  the  girl's  pink  gown 
had  disappeared. 

"Um!  Um!  Bad!  Bad!"  he  concluded,  with  a 
solemn  shake  of  his  head.  "There's  no  doubt  he's 
a  very  sick  man!  Very  sick!  Recovery  very  un- 
likely !" 

Steele  drew  his  hand  away  while  his  face  flushed 
darkly. 

"Idiot!"  he  declared.  But  Ashley  only  sunk  into 
his  chair  with  a  doleful  shake  of  his  head  and  a  sigh. 

"Don't  even  believe  a  good  drink  would  do  him 
much  good !"  he  concluded. 

"Speaking  of  which,"  broke  in  Cardwell,  "and 
changing  the  subject  to  a  more  cheerful  one,  it  can't 
be  long  now  until  we  get  one.  Captain  McMaster 
and  the  Falcon  ought  to  be  here  most  any  time. 


122  JUNE  GOLD 

Wouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  couldn't  be  sighted  to-day, 
if  it  wasn't  for  this  mist." 

Steele  raised  a  cautious  hand,  as  he  glanced  around 
at  the  door  through  which  Lora  Humphrey  had  gone. 
Ashley  grinned  in  his  impish  way,  but  his  friend 
glared  at  him.  *'Don't  be  more  of  a  fool  than  you 
can  help,  Clem,"  he  advised.  "You  ought  to  have 
enough  glimmering  of  intelligence  to  know  we  can't 
afford  to  let  anyone — anyone — know  the  least  thing 
about  what  we're  up  to.  Lord,  I've  had  hard  enough 
time  as  it  is  explaining  why  that  yacht  is  coming — 
been  spreading  it  around  that  we  had  a  sugar  deal 
on  in  Cuba  and  thought  we'd  combine  business  with 
pleasure." 

"Have  you  thought  what  you'd  say  in  case  we  had 
to  come  back  here?"  began  Cardwell,  but  Steele  in- 
terrupted him  in  surprise. 

"Back  here?"  he  wondered.    "Why?" 

"Probably  the  better  part  of  wisdom,"  was  Meade's 
contribution.  "Haven't  you  been  watching  the 
papers?" 

Steele  shook  his  head.  "Too  busy,"  he  declared. 
He  paid  no  heed  to  Ashley's  chuckle,  but  turned  as 
Lora  Humphrey  came  into  the  room  with  a  pot  of 
steaming  coffee  and  cups  on  a  tray. 

When  they  were  again  alone,  Meade  took  up  the 
conversation. 


JUNE  GOLD  ns 

"See,  here,  Steele,  Fm  willing  to  go  through  with 
this  thing — I  didn't  go  into  it  blindfold  in  the  first 
place,  but  if  you  think  we  can  run  a  cargo  of  contra- 
band into  any  Northern  port,  then  you're  just  out  of 
luck — that's  all  I  can  say.  I'd  a  whole  lot  rather  be 
here  breaking  the  game  laws  shooting  ducks  than 
making  little  ones  out  of  big  ones  in  some  prison  gang. 
And  that's  about  the  size  of  it." 

"I'm  strong  for  having  enough  drinks  myself,"  was 
Cardwell's  addition,  "but  we've  been  thinking  it  over 
a  lot  since  we've  been  over  on  the  island,  and  I  be- 
lieve it  would  be  a  whole  lot  better  to  bring  the  stuff 
right  back  to  my  island — there's  room  a-plenty  for 
a  hundred  caches  (as  many  an  old  pirate  could  have 
told  you) — and  then  we  can  wait  for  the  most  pro- 
pitious time  to  get  it  back  to  Westchester  by  hydro- 
plane.   What  do  you  think?" 

Steele  sipped  his  coffee  meditatively. 

"Do  you  think  it's  worth  all  the  trouble?"  he  asked. 

"I've  been  doing  a  lot  of  thinking  myself,  and " 

he  held  up  his  coffee  cup.  "This  sort  of  stuff  suits 
me  pretty  well." 

Ashley  rose  and  yawned. 

"Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "if  you're  going  to  back  out — 
I'd  just  as  soon  get  back  and  into  some  civilized  clothes 
— and  there  isn't  a  bit  of  mustache  wax  in  all  of  Card- 
well's  lodge — not  even  parafKine." 


124  JUNE  GOLD 

*'0h,  I'll  not  back  out,"  assured  Steele,  "but  I  can't 
help  wondering  if  the  risk  is  worth  it — do  we  really 
want  liquor  as  badly  as  all  that " 

"He  came  to  North  Carolina  to  get  a  jag,  and  he 
got  religion!"  Ashley  threw  up  both  hands  in  a  help- 
less gesture,  but  Steele  went  on,  as  usual,  without 
noticing  the  interruption  from  this  particular  quarter. 

"You're  probably  right,  Cardwell.  We'll  do  as  you 
suggest,  but  there  are  two  or  three  other  things  to 
consider.  We  can't  just  run  a  yacht  full  of  liquor 
onto  your  island  without  knowing  exactly  at  what 
moment  to  do  it  any  more  than  we  could  enter  the 
port  of  New  York.  Now  it  is  obviously  impossible 
to  take  any  of  the  natives  into  our  confidence,  least 
of  all  old  Humphrey — why,  I  wouldn't  have  him  know 
I  was  breaking  the  law  in  that  manner  for  anything 
in  the  world " 

"He  or  his  family,"  amended  Ashley  in  a  mur- 
mur. 

"So,"  continued  the  big  broker  who  was  playing 
invalid  so  well  in  his  armchair  propped  with  pillows, 
"some  one  of  us  will  have  to  remain  behind  to  keep 
watch  and  be  ready  to  signal  the  yacht  on  its  return. 
It  might  be  the  case  that  the  Prohibition  fleet  had  got 
wind  of  what  we're  up  to  by  that  time,  so  we  might 
have  to  know  whether  to  dump  the  stuff  overboard 
or  not " 


JUNE  GOLD  125 

''That  ocean  struck  me  as  pretty  wet  already,"  com- 
mented Clem  Ashley  as  he  ruefully  regarded  the  once 
natty  sports  suit  which  had  had  its  bath  in  the  Sound. 
**But  you  can  consider  me  at  your  service.  I'll  be  self- 
denying — I'll  stay  behind." 

Cardwell  and  Meade  looked  at  the  small  man  sar- 
castically. 

"Didn't  I  hear  you  making  some  remark  about  back- 
ing out?"  he  asked.  '*No,  the  thing  to  do  is  to  draw 
lots.  Here,"  and  he  took  from  the  pocket  of  his  damp 
coat  a  pair  of  well-worn  dice  which  he  tossed  on  the 
floor  in  front  of  the  fire.  ''High  man  is  out! 
Agreed?"    The  others  answered  him  with  a  nod. 

On  the  second  round,  Meade  and  Cardwell  by 
throwing  a  ten  and  a  twelve  respectively  had  been 
elected  members  of  the  party  who  would  go  on  the 
yacht. 

Ashley  scooped  up  the  dice  and  held  them  a  mo- 
ment, with  his  small  head  cocked  on  one  side  as  he 
regarded  the  m^an  in  the  armchair  by  the  fire. 

"Heard  'em  call  me  a  quitter,  didn't  you?"  he  in- 
quired, in  his  tone  of  injured  innocence.  "Got  to 
vindicate  myself.  I'll  admit  I'm  not  hankering  for  a 
chance  to  wear  a  striped  suit,  but  I've  got  to  tell  you 
something.  You  haven't  a  chance  the  way  Gray 
Cardwell  has  figured  it  out.  Why,  I  can  throw  more 
aces  than  any  man  in  the  world.     Tried  it  out  too 


126  JUNE  GOLD 

often  in  the  army — worse  luck!  What  say  we  switch 
it.  Low  man  out — eh?  How's  that  for  a  game 
sport?"  He  looked  at  the  others  pridefully,  then  to 
Steele  he  added:  "Are  you  on?*' 

"Suit  yourself,"  Steele  replied  languidly. 

Ashley  rubbed  the  dice  between  his  hands  and  held 
them  out  to  Steele. 

"Shoot !"  he  invited. 

Steele  took  them  and  carelessly  dropped  them  onto 
the  floor,  A  five  spot  shone  in  front  of  him  in  the 
firelight,  but  the  second  die  rolled  over  beside  the 
pile  of  wood  at  the  side  of  the  hearth.  On  his  hands 
and  knees  Ashley  went  after  it.  He  groaned  comically 
as,  on  moving  a  stick  of  wood  a  four  was  displayed. 
Then  he  sat  crosslegged  on  the  floor  and  with  the  dice 
between  the  palms  of  his  hands,  he  caressed  them, 
crooning  to  them. 

"Big  Dick!  Big  Dick!  If  you  ever  loved  me,  come 
to  me  now!" 

He  shot  the  dice  across  the  floor.  Near  Steele's 
foot  an  ace  showed  plainly.  In  the  middle  of  the 
hearth,  its  mate,  a  deuce,  came  to  a  standstill.  He 
grinned  wryly. 

"Elected  by  an  overwhelming  majority !"  he  nodded, 
as  he  scooped  up  the  little  ivories  and  clambered  to 
his  feet.  "Well,  congratulations,  old  top,"  as  he 
turned  to  Steele.    "Send  me  some  flowers  and  a  box 


JUNE   GOLD  127 

of  cigarettes  some  time  when  I'm  far  from  the  mad- 
ding throng,  with  the  huge  gray  walls  curbing  all  my 
youthful  enthusiasm!" 

But  Steele  did  not  laugh. 

"Fm  sorry,  Clem,  old  chap,"  he  said,  and  his  voice 
showed  his  earnestness.  '1  started  this  thing,  and  I 
wanted  to  finish  it.  I  don't  like  my  friends  taking 
such  risks  for  a  fool  scheme  of  mine.  I  want  to  see 
it  through." 

Cardwell  yawned  languidly. 

''Think  back,"  he  requested,  "and  remember  whose 
scheme  it  was.  But  you  needn't  worry.  You'll  have 
your  own  work  cut  out  for  you  on  land — and  remem- 
ber that  if  you  slip,  or  let  anything  interfere  with  the 
watch  you're  keeping,  life  might  never  be  the  same 
again  to  at  least  three  friends  of  yours,  to  say  nothing 
of  a  mighty  loyal  captain  of  your  yacht." 

A  great  scuffling  outside  the  door  stopped  their  con- 
versation quickly,  but  when  the  door  opened  to  admit 
what  might  have  been  a  dozen  people  from  the  sound, 
only  old  Theophilus  Humphrey  hove  into  sight. 

"Wall,  I'm  consarned!"  he  shouted.  "How'd  ye 
git  here?  Thought  ye'd  be  over  on  the  duck  ponds 
sich  a  great  day.  Ye'd  a  had  a  rale  good  time,  pro- 
viden  the  game  warden  didn't  come  by, 

"Fine  weather  for  ducks,"  was  Ashley's  irrelevant 
comment 


128  JUNE  GOLD 

"Yes,  sir,  I  was  comin'  right  over  rale  soon,  but  I 
had  some  business  I  must  tend  to  about  the  farm  crit- 
ters and  some  land  that  must  be  risin*  for  a  pasture 
this  spring.  Them  cow-beasts  shore  eat  food.  Not 
goin'?'*  he  asked  surprisedly  as  Cardwell  and  Meade 
rose  and  shook  out  their  wet  caps.  ''Hit's  a  right 
smart  warmer  over  here  than  on  the  island,  and  Lory'll 
have  dinner  rale  soon.  Yes,  sir,  I  'low  to-day  hit's 
two  blanket  warmer  here." 

But  shaking  their  heads  in  refusal  of  the  old 
guide's  hospitable  invitation  Meade  and  Cardwell 
started  toward  the  door,  with  Ashley  trailing  behind. 

"Thanks  awfully,  Humphrey,"  Cardwell  refused, 
*^'but  we've  got  to  get  back  to  make  some  preparations. 
Captain  McMaster  ought  to  be  here  any  time,  and  one 
of  those  letters  you  brought  me  showed  me  I  couldn't 
be  fooling  around  hunting  and  fishing  much  longer 
when  there's  business  to  be  attended  to.  But,"  and 
he  indicated  Steele  who  sat  still  staring  at  the  fire, 
"you'll  have  company.  Old  Doc  Parson  thinks  our 
friend  here  has  had  enough  sea  for  the  time  being, 
and  advises  against  a  sea  trip.  So  if  you  think  you 
can  look  after  him  for  a  week  or  two  longer  and  show 
him  a  little  within-the-law  hunting  and  fishing  on  the 
finest  little  island  in  the  world,  we'll  drop  back  for 
him  and  pick  him  up  after  our  little  business  matters 
are  attended  to." 


JUNE  GOLD  129 

Theophilus  Lopstrop  Humphrey  nibbed  his  hands 
gleefully.  This  suited  him  to  the  ground.  His  mouth 
had  fallen  when  he  heard  Cardwell  was  so  soon  to 
leave,  but  he  chirked  up  when  he  found  he  was  not 
to  be  alone.  Humphrey  might  hunt  and  fish  the  year 
round,  law  or  no  law,  as  all  progers  do,  but  that  was 
nothing  to  the  chance  of  showing  his  prowess  to  a 
"city  man." 

''Shore!"  he  boomed.  "Shorest  thing  ye  know. 
All  the  fishin'  and  huntin'  ye  ever  see!  Maybe  we'll 
git  one  of  them  big  boars.  Oh,  we'll  take  good  keer 
of  him,  Lory  and  me.    Won't  we,  Lory?" 

They  had  not  seen  Lora  Humphrey,  who  had  come 
quietly  into  the  room  as  they  announced  their  depar- 
ture. Neither  had  they  noticed  the  glad  light  that 
had  sprung  up  into  her  eyes  as  she  heard  their  an- 
nouncement that  Steele  was  to  remain  behind.  But 
it  was  a  light  which  was  dimmed  in  a  moment,  and 
it  was  the  same  shy,  but  hospitable  country  girl  they 
had  come  to  know  who  assured  them  of  her  pleasure 
in  doing  anything  further  for  their  friend.  Watch- 
ing them,  Steele  was  of  two  minds.  He  was  heartily 
disappointed  that  he  was  not  to  be  one  of  the  actual 
pirating  party,  now  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
it.  It  was  not  like  Harrison  Steele  to  remain  on  the 
side  lines  as  a  signaler  while  others  took  chances. 
But  then  his  thoughts  changed  when  his  glance  trav- 


130  JUNE  GOLD 

eled  to  Lora,  sweet  and  demure  as  she  sped  her 
parting  guests.  Yes,  it  would  be  pleasant — more  than 
that — to  remain  near  this  girl  for  a  time  longer.  He 
could  not  help  but  admit  that — and  what  the  days 

might  bring  forth Well,  that  was  still  in  the  lap 

of  the  gods. 

The  three  men  whom  negro  Henry  poled  over  to 
Bogue  Island  did  not  go  at  once  to  the  lodge,  though 
they  promised  him  not  to  be  late  for  their  midday 
meal. 

"Ducks  to-day,  Marse  Cardwell,"  he  told  them, 
smacking  his  lips.  "A-plenty  ob  'em.  Mallard,  three 
of  Cap.  Humphrey's  cultivated  ones,  yum!  Yum! 
An'  some  of  that  there  speargrass  whut  Cap.  Taylor 
toted  up  las'  trip." 

"We'll  be  on  hand,  Henry,  never  fear,"  Cardwell 
assured  his  serving  man.  "With  an  appetite,  too — 
we  get  it  here  whether  we  do  anything  or  not.  Just 
going  to  take  a  stroll  down  to  the  sand  dunes  to  see 
the  ocean  come  in." 

"Yah !  Yah !"  yowled  the  negro,  delightedly  show- 
ing his  teeth.  "Doan  ye  say  the  beatenes'  things, 
Marse  Cardwell.  See  the  ocean  come  in!  Jes'  lak 
you-all  was  talkin'  about  ole  Numbah  Six  lak  when 
I  used  to  lib  up  Morehead  City  way  to  the  East'ard !" 

Both  Meade  and  Ashley  believed  they  had  seen  sand 
dunes  before  they  had  seen  those  which  lay  on  the 


JUNE  GOLD  131 

ocean  side  of  Cardwell's  island  lodge.  But  these 
were  dunes!  Sand  hills  and  mountains,  more  strictly 
speaking,  which  it  taxed  a  man's  breath  to  climb; 
which  made  such  ideal  spots  for  the  wild  goats  who 
had  a  chance  to  emulate  their  Rocky  Mountain  kin- 
dred as  they  leapt  from  sand  crag  to  sand  crag;  dunes 
that  the  waters  and  winds  of  ages  had  piled  up  hill 
,and  mountain  high,  washing  them  in  from  the  long 
sandy  sweeps  that  made  the  ocean  bed  of  that  part 
of  the  coast — those  sandy  bottoms  with  their  ever- 
changing  formations  which  had  wrecked  more  mari- 
ners whose  vessels  were  run  upon  them  than  many 
a  rock-bottomed  shore  line  whose  dangers  could  be 
charted. 

Up  one  of  these  sand  hills  Cardwell  clambered, 
followed  by  Meade  and  more  leisurely  by  the  panting 
Ashley.  They  stood  for  a  moment  looking  out  at  the 
gray  sea  wuth  its  tossing  waves  and  the  mist  that 
stopped  their  vision.  Then  happened  one  of  those 
queer  things  that  are  forever  happening  on  such  misty 
foggy  days.  For  a  moment  the  gray  pall  lifted  and 
they  could  see  far  out  to  sea.  There  (and  not  so 
many  fathoms  away  at  that),  they  could  see  the  spars 
of  a  trim  yacht  that  had  dropped  anchor.  Cardwell 
glanced  at  his  companions. 

'That  will  be  the  Falcon;'  he  nodded.  "This  time 
to-morrow " 


132  JUNE  GOLD 

Ashley  laughed  hollowly. 

*'Yo,  ho,  ho,  and  a  bottle  of  rum!"  he  chanted. 

"Lead  me  to  it,"  dryly  commented  the  silent  Meade. 

Clement  Ashley  sat  down  unexpectedly  at  the  top 
of  a  sharp  slant  of  sand.  He  waved  his  hand  as  a 
sudden  propulsion  of  his  wiry  little  body  shot  him 
downward. 

"Come  on,  then!"  he  shouted. 


tt  ( 


Sailing !     Sailing  I    Over  the  bounding  main. 
For  many  a  stormy  wind  shall  blow, 
Ere  Jack  come  home  again.'  " 

At  the  foot  of  the  slide,  he  picked  himself  up,  gave 
a  nautical  hitch  to  his  sports  trousers,  and  spat  into 
the  sand. 

"Rum!"  he  growled.     "Rum!     Give  me  r-r-rum!" 


CHAPTER  X 

ON  the  top  of  one  of  the  highest  sand  dunes 
Harrison  Steele  stood  at  an  unearthly  hour 
(for  him)  and  gazed  out  at  the  sea.  But  the 
waves  that  had  frothed  and  fretted  and  dashed  them- 
selves against  the  sands  on  the  day  of  the  rainstorm 
were  gently  lapping  the  golden  grains  in  a  matutinal 
kiss.  All  signs  of  storm  had  vanished  and  Steele^s 
vision  encompassed  miles  far  out  into  the  blue  Atlantic 
to  the  deep  violet  of  the  sea's  horizon  where  the  sun 
was  just  peeping  over  the  world's  rim. 

But  it  was  not  at  the  glory  of  the  sun  he  gazed,  nor 
yet  at  the  green  and  gold  and  purpling  glows  that 
glinted  on  the  moving  mass  of  water.  Far  out  at  sea 
he  could  see  a  yacht — ^his  yacht,  the  Falcon — which 
was  bearing  his  friends  and  his  loyal  captain  forth  to 
an  adventure  for  which  he  now  felt  that  he  had  little 
of  the  zest  he  had  had  when  it  was  first  planned. 
Momentarily  the  yacht  was  drawing  further  away, 
bound  for  the  port  of  Hamilton  in  the  Bermudas 
where  men  could  still  slake  their  thirst  as  best  appealed 
to  them.  Hamilton  had  been  selected  as  the  port  of 
call  when  the  Falcon  sailed  without  the  formality  of 

133 


134  JUNE  GOLD 

obtaining  clearance  papers  for  several  reasons,  the 
chief  being  that  it  was  not  so  far  away  that  the  adven- 
turers might  not  hope,  with  fair  luck  and  barring  acci- 
dent, to  be  back  on  Bogue  Island  with  their  cargo  in- 
tact in  about  ten  days  or  two  weeks. 

A  wish  came  to  Steele  as  he  stood  there  in  safety 
that  he  might  be  aboard  his  trim  vessel  with  his 
friends,  might  share  whatever  was  in  store  with  them. 
But  swiftly,  unbidden,  there  passed  before  his  eyes  the 
vision  of  Lora  Humphrey  as  he  had  seen  her  but  an 
hour  or  so  before.  She  had  seemed  surprised  to  see 
him  up  so  early,  and  going  to  see  the  yacht  sail,  but 
had  waved  to  him  gayly  as  she  fled  down  the  path  in 
her  bathing  suit  for  her  morning  dip  in  the  sound.  It 
was  pleasant — ^very — he  mused,  to  realize  that  he 
would  be  here  and  free  to  enjoy  her  companionship  for 
a  while  longer.  After  the  yacht's  return — well,  that, 
too,  was  something  for  the  future.  He  shifted  his 
position  and  glanced  speculatively  at  the  sand  dune  on 
which  he  stood. 

''Hmm!"  he  mused.  "A  likely  spot  right  here. 
Let's  see — One  fagot  fire  if  the  coast  is  clear — two  if 
there's  danger — Hmmph !"  and  he  smiled  humorously 
— "sounds  something  like  Paul  Revere !  Wonder  what 
the  old  boy  would  think  if  he  could  know  what  so 
many  of  his  countrymen  are  doing  to  the  constitution 
of  the  country  he  went  riding  for?" 


JUNE  GOLD  135 

The  jaunty  yacht  grew  smaller  as  It  drew  nearer  and 
nearer  tlie  glory  of  the  horizon.  Steele  strained  his 
eyes  to  watch  the  last  of  it.  Then  it  disappeared,  hull 
down,  right  into  the  rising  sun.  The  big  man  drew  a 
deep  breath. 

"And  that's  that!"  he  affirmed,  but  there  was  not 
his  usual  assuredness  in  his  voice  as  he  spoke  aloud. 
Something  unaccountable,  unaccustomed  had  come  to 
him.  He  felt  a  lump  rising  in  his  throat ;  he  could  not 
swallow  It.  With  all  the  suddenness  of  an  explosion 
it  came  to  him  that  he  had  taken  the  first  step  toward 
breaking  the  law  of  the  land  of  his  birth.  He  was  a 
pirate;  nothing  less.  As  much  of  a  pirate  as  those 
notorious  men  of  old  who  had  sailed  the  same  seas,  of 
whom  Lora  Humphrey  had  told  him.  He  wondered  If 
Captain  Kidd  or  Morgan,  or  Teach,  he  of  the  black 
beard  and  ribbons,  had  ever  felt  as  he  was  feeling  in 
taking  their  first  steps. 

Far  down  the  coast,  further  inland,  he  could  see  the 
virgin  pines  and  dogwoods  with  their  starry  white 
flowers  that  fringed  that  part  of  the  country  known  as 
Teach's  Hole.  Well,  here  was  another  pirate.  Two 
hundred  years  hadn't  made  a  lot  of  change  In  human 
nature. 

"I  wonder,  now,"  he  mused,  his  eyes  on  the  hiding 
place  of  the  once  feared  high-handed  sailor  of  the 
Spanish  Main,  ''I  wonder,  old  chap,  if  they  ever  tried 


136  JUNE  GOLD 

to  keep  your  rum  away  from  you.  If  they  did,  I  don't 
blame  you  so  much,  after  all."  His  expression 
changed  to  a  mirthful  grin.  "Wonder  if  the  old  boy 
ever  hid  any  of  his  rum  along  with  those  fabulous 
pearls  and  emeralds  and  gold  doubloons  theyVe  been 
seeking  so  long.  If  he  did,  think  I  might  take  a 
chance  at  treasure  hunting  myself.  Would  be  nice  and 
mellowed  by  now." 

Steele  had  said  goodbye  to  his  host  and  hostess  in 
the  Humphrey  home  the  night  before,  for  though  he 
had  not  told  them  his  real  reason  (which  was  that  he 
feared  his  continued  presence  there  might  bring  down 
gossip  of  the  neighbors  on  the  lovely  girl's  head)  he 
had  said  that  he  believed  it  best  to  move  over  to  the 
lodge  and  try  a  bit  of  hunting  and  fishing  while  he  was 
recuperating.  He  had  thought,  as  he  intended  seeing 
his  yacht  sail,  to  be  off  before  they  were  up. 

The  sun  was  not  three  hours  high  when  he  began  to 
realize  how  much  he  was  enjoying  it  all.  Old  Theo 
had  brought  him  an  outfit  from  Swansboro  that 
seemed  the  last  thing  in  comfort.  To  the  man  to 
whom  creased  trousers,  immaculate  linen  and  stiff  col- 
lars had  always  been  such  a  necessity,  as  well  as  the 
valet  to  care  for  them  and  attend  to  himself,  the 
change  was,  though  novel,  an  exhilarating  one.  Briar- 
proof  khaki  and  snake-proof  leather  boots  seemed  the 
epitome  of  comfort.    Until  he  heard  his  black  serving 


JUNE  GOLD  187 

man's  horn  announcing  dinner,  Steele  strolled  through 
the  closely  grown  trees  and  tried  to  penetrate  the 
underbrush  which  he  found  could  not  be  done  save  by 
an  animal  many  times  smaller  than  himself.  He  poked 
about  the  sand  dunes,  picturing  to  himself  what  the 
pirates  of  old  had  done  when  they  had  wandered  about 
the  place  as  he  was  wandering.  He  might  have  been  a 
thousand  miles  from  civilization,  he  thought,  as  he 
realized  the  only  sign  of  life  about  him  was  the  oc- 
casional bleat  of  a  wild  goat,  or  the  chattering  of 
marsh  hens  in  the  swamps,  preparing  for  their  brood- 
ing. Only  down  near  the  sand  dunes  was  there  a  sign 
that  man  had  ever  been  in  this  wilderness  before. 
There  he  spied  a  tall  post,  not  unlike  a  patrolman's  box 
such  as  he  had  often  seen  in  the  outlying  suburban 
districts.  This,  he  knew,  from  having  been  told  of  it, 
was  the  watchman's  clock  device  of  the  coast  guard, 
which  he  had  to  punch  with  regularity  to  show  that 
he  was  not  neglecting  his  duty,  out  here  where  there 
was  none  to  keep  a  watchful  eye.  It  stood  up  con- 
spicuously out  of  place  in  the  waste  of  sands  that  re- 
minded so  of  desert  islands.  Rather  gloomy,  lonely 
life  these  coast  guardsmen  led,  he  pondered.  No  won- 
der they  sought  for  life  and  the  companionship  of 
women  (he  remembered  how  Everett  had  come  to  see 
Lora,  and  a  frown  of  displeasure  crossed  his  face) 
when  they  were  off  duty. 


138  ^JUNE  GOLD 

Steele's  first  night  at  the  lodge  was  a  peaceful  one. 
Henry  had  supper  ready  while  the  sun  was  still  high, 
and  served  it  for  him  on  the  wide  rustic  porch.  While 
he  ate  the  delicate  beaten  biscuit  of  the  southland,  and 
enjoyed  the  wild  honey  that  was  served  with  them,  he 
sighed  with  contentment  as  the  cooling  breezes  that 
had  followed  the  heat  after  the  rainstorm  tanned  his 
face.  Those  same  breezes  were  kicking  up  the  waters 
of  the  Sound  into  little  whitecaps,  and  their  gentle 
murmur  was  more  soothing  than  any  softly  tuned 
orchestra  the  broker  had  ever  heard  in  the  city  which 
had  been  most  of  his  life.  Great  pelicans,  with  jet 
markings  in  their  white  plumage  stood  f  riendlily  about 
at  the  edges  of  the  marshes,  satisfied  with  themselves 
and  their  own  picturesqueness.  The  noisy  cackle  of 
the  marsh  hens,  and  the  chirps  of  Virginia  rail,  dart- 
ing among  the  grasses  of  the  shore  line,  chimed  into 
the  orchestration  of  the  whitecaps  like  obbligato  in- 
struments. 

Steele  gazed  past  the  shore  line  to  the  one  opposite 
where  lay  the  hommock  lands.  He  could  just  make 
out  the  white-washed  cottage  of  the  Humphreys  from 
where  it  was  half  hidden  in  its  Httle  grove  of  live  oaks 
and  pines.  A  queer  pang  shot  through  the  man.  A 
moment  before  he  had  had  no  thought  of  loneliness. 
Now  as  he  pictured  Lora  Humphrey  going  about  her 
household  duties,  mentally  visioned  her  lithe  figure 


JUNE  GOLD  139 

and  so  nearly  per  feet- featured  face  with  its  wild  rose 
coloring,  he  had  a  consciousness  of  being  more  alone 
than  he  had  ever  been  before.  He  wanted  to  be  with 
her.  He  knew  it.  His  loneliness  did  not  come  from 
the  lack  of  masculine  companionship  as  it  had  always 
come  before.  He  found  himself  wondering  if  that 
companionship,  or  the  wild  parties  he  had  so  often 
been  a  member  of  were  worth  while,  after  all.  Down 
here  it  was  so  peaceful.  Life  was  so  real — so  worth 
while.     And  Lora 

He  came  out  of  his  revery  with  a  start  as  Henry 
placed  a  fresh  plate  of  steaming  biscuits  before  him, 
and  set  down  another  pitcher  of  milk,  its  top  beaded 
with  the  frothiness  of  fresh  coldness.  The  negro 
grinned. 

"  'Scuse  me,  Marse  Harrison,"  he  apologized. 
"Wuz  you-all  thinkin'?  I  gits  that  way  sometimes 
out  here — it's  so  lonesome  like,  and  all  them  critters 
a-makin'  a  hullabaloo,  and  a  boy  gits  to  thinkin'  of  his 
rifle  and  fishin'  rod — but  you-all  mustn't  fo'git  your 
biscuits." 

"I  couldn't  forget  them,  Henry,"  Steele  assured,  as 
he  split  one  open  and  moistened  its  steaming  surface 
with  yellow  butter.  "I  don't  think  I've  ever  eaten  any- 
thing so  good  in  my  life !" 

The  negro  grinned  delightedly. 

*T  wuz  jes'  thinkin',  Marse  Harrison,"  he  offered, 


140  JUNE  GOLD 

"as  how  mebby  you'all'd  like  to  go  for  some  dnim  fish 

to-morrow  mawnin' Effen  so,  they's  no  need  to 

wait  for  Marse  Theo — I  knows  all  'bout  fish, " 

he  drew  himself  up  pridefully,  "and  I  'low  I  kin  show 
you-all  how,  same  as  him." 

Steele's  quick  glance  showed  him  the  negro's  child- 
ish eagerness  to  serve. 

"All  right,  Henry,  Til  go  you,"  he  said.  "But  I'm 
due  for  a  fine  night's  sleep  first.  This  air  is  a  sure  cure 
for  insomnia." 

"Yas,  sah !  Yas  sah !  You-all  go  on — I'll  fix  ebery 
thing !  Git  all  the  rods  an'  reels  and  bait  all  ready  to- 
night before  layin'  down  timel" 

"All  right,"  once  more  agreed  the  broker.  He 
yawned.  "Think  it's  about  'laying  down  time'  for  me 
right  now.     Fancy  being  ready  to  retire  at  twilight!" 

Had  Harrison  Steele's  gray  eyes  been  telescopic 
enough  to  have  peered  through  the  oaks  and  pine  grove 
about  the  Humphrey  home  to  its  interior,  he  would  not 
have  found  Lora  Humphrey  at  the  time  he  was  think- 
ing so  deeply  of  her — thinking  of  her,  in  a  way  alto- 
gether strange  to  him,  by  her  first  name. 

As  the  twilight  closed  down,  with  its  soft  scented 
breezes,  the  girl  of  the  broker's  thoughts  knocked 
softly  at  the  half-open  door  of  Uncle  Billy  Peter 
iVVillis'  tumble-down  shanty.    Inside  she  heard  Salva- 


JUNE  GOLD  141 

tion  Willis  crooning  a  native  lullaby.  The  music 
hushed  and  a  tired  voice  called: 

"Come  In !" 

Lora,  pushing  open  the  door,  entered  the  shabby 
room,  with  its  clutter  of  broken  furniture,  its  ragged 
home-made  carpet,  worn  through  to  the  floor  in  many 
spots,  its  dank  odor  of  lightless  days  and  stale  cooking. 
In  the  center  of  the  floor,  Salvation  Willis,  in  a  low 
home-made  rocker  that  creaked  its  protest  over  its 
burden  on  its  one  good  rocker,  sat  with  her  dead 
sister's  ''breast  baby"  in  her  arms.  Its  small  plaintive 
moans  lent  a  greater  dismalness  to  the  scene  that 
greeted  the  bright  eyes  of  Lora  Humphrey  as  she 
stepped  inside. 

"Hello,  Salvation !"  she  called.    "Hello,  Babe  !'* 

A  glad  light  of  welcome  came  to  the  dull  eyes  of  the 
girl  drudge  who  held  the  baby.  Then  she  looked  about 
her  cautiously,  uneasily. 

"Howdy,  Miss  Lora,"  she  answered.  "Come — 
come  in  an'  draw  up  a  cheer!" 

Lora  shook  her  head. 

"Only  have  a  minute  to  stay,  Sal,"  using  the  old 
childhood  phrase,  "Just  dropped  over  to  bring  that 
prepared  food  for  the  baby  I  told  you  about.  Captain 
Taylor  brought  it  up  from  Morehead  City  this  morn- 
ing.   Now  don't  you  be  afraid  to  give  it  to  the  baby — 


142  JUNE   GOLD 

IVe  seen  it  used  so  often  in  the  hospital  I  know  it  will 
do  him  good.  How  is  the  little  one?"  she  asked,  com- 
ing over  and  bending  over  the  two.  The  child  only 
moaned,  in  the  sickly  way  of  a  baby  suffering  from 
malnutrition.  The  Willis  girl  wagged  her  head 
mournfully. 

"Porely!  Porely!"  she  answered,  then  in  a  voice 
of  compassion  as  she  hugged  the  emaciated  infant  to 
her  breast.  "Pore  little  thing!  If  he  could  only  go! 
He  wouldn't  be  here  now,  if  it  wasn't  for  the  things 
you  fetch  him.  Miss  Lora." 

Lora  straightened  up  and  shook  her  finger  with 
mock  sternness  at  the  other  girl. 

^'Salvation  Willis!"  she  demanded,  "how  often  have 
I  told  you  not  to  call  me  Miss  Lora.  Haven't  you 
known  me  all  my  life?" 

"But  you've  got  so  fine,"  demurred  Salvation, 
"and     eddicated,     and     all,     and  —  such     beautiful 

clothes "    Her  gaze  held  for  a  moment  on  Lora's 

crisp  white  frock  with  its  orange  sash  of  organdie, 
then  dropped  shamefacedly  to  her  own  bedraggled, 
much  faded  calico  mother  hubbard. 

"Nonsense!"  Lora  spoke  sharply.  "We  were  chil- 
dren together  and  played  together,  and  you  must  have 
a  pretty  poor  opinion  of  me  if  you  think  a  few  clothes 
are  going  to  make  any  difference.    Why,  with  half  a 


JUNE  GOLD  14^ 

chance — and  a  little  care  of  yourself,  you'd  be  the 
prettiest  girl  in  the  neighborhood !" 

The  other  shook  her  head. 

"No  chance!"  she  said,  with  the  bitterness  of 
finality.  "All  I'll  ever  git  is  plenty  of  work,  but  I 
wouldn't  mind  if  the  babies  could  have  a  chance.  But 
pap  is  getting  so  tight  about  the  milk,  and  fusses^ 
so " 

Lora  Humphrey's  eyes  blazed. 

"It's  a  shame !  That's  what  it  is !"  she  cried.  "Why 
don't  you  leave  him?"  Guarded  and  cared  for  as  she 
w^as,  Lora  Humphrey  could  not  understand  the  tamed 
spirit  that  would  put  up  with  all  that  was  the  lot  of 
her  old  friend.  But  Salvation  only  clasped  the  child 
closer. 

"The  babies,"  she  demurred," — they  hain't  nobody 

but  me,  and  effen  I "  she  broke  off,  then  added 

passionately :  "Why,  Miss — er,  Lora,  most  of  the  time 
I'm  not  thinkin'  of  goin', — I'm  wonderin'  effen  he's 
goin'  to  let  me  stay !  Jes'  last  night  he  put  me  out,  and 
I  had  to  beg  and  plead " 

"Put  you  out?"  Lora  could  not  believe  her  ears. 
She  could  not  believe  that  even  penurious  old  Billy 
Peter  WiUis  would  let  this  girl  who  was  his  drudge 
and  slave  get  from  under  his  clutches. 

"Umph!     Humph!"   Salvation  nodded.     "He  got 


144  JUNE   GOLD 

bilin'  mad  at  me  at  supper  time,  'count  o'  me  soppin' 
my  bread  on  both  sides — said  I  was  a-ruinin'  him.'* 

*The  old "  Lora  forced  herself  to  keep  to  her- 
self her  opinion  of  the  father  of  the  girl  to  whom  she 
spoke.  "It's  a  shame — that's  what  it  is !"  she  repeated. 
"My  father  sending  me  away  to  school  when  he  had 
to  rake  and  scrape,  and  your  father,  who  could  buy 
and  sell  half  the  county,  treating  you  like  this — never 
giving  you  a  chance.  Well,  I'll  say  one  thing,  Salva- 
tion Willis!  You're  a  good  girl — lots  better  than  I 
am,  to  stay  here  and  stand  it  all  for  the  babies.  But 
if  anything  of  the  kind  happens  again,  you  just  pack 
up  and  come  over  to  our  house.  Father'll  see  that 
no  harm  comes  to  you " 

Salvation  Willis  smiled  ruefully  as  she  listened. 

"Pack  up?"  she  repeated  whimsically.  "I  'low  hit 
wouldn't  take  me  long." 

Lora  turned  toward  the  door.  "I'll  have  to  hurry," 
she  announced.  "Dark's  coming  on  fast,  and  I  didn't 
bring  a  lantern."  She  knew,  without  having  to  be 
told  that  in  this  house  she  would  never  be  offered  one 
in  the  neighborly  fashion  of  the  hommock  dwellers 
who  always  offered  this  courtesy  to  belated  visitors. 
Uncle  Billy  Peter  would  have  counted  the  drops  of  oil 
used  and  made  somebody  pay.  "Now,  you  give  that 
food  to  the  baby,  and  let  me  know  how  he  gets  on, 
and  if  he  doesn't  improve,  we'll  manage  somehow  to 


JUNE  GOLD  145 

get  Dr.  Parson  around  to  see  him "    She  snatched 

up  the  shade  hat  she  had  dropped  on  entering  the 
room.  Salvation  Willis  regarded  her  guest,  and  tears 
stood  in  her  eyes.  Though  her  life  had  taught  her  all 
the  restraint  of  her  kind,  something  broke  inside  her, 
and  she  burst  out  passionately : 

"You're  just  an  angel,  Lora  Humphrey,  and " 

Lora's  laugh  rang  out  to  interrupt  her. 

"An  angel!"  she  chaffed.  "And  you  raised  by  a 
Holinesser!  Why,  Holiness  angels  don't  wear  low- 
necked  dresses,  nor  bathing  suits,  nor  go  to  'furrin* 
lands'  to  school,  or  get  to  be  trained  nurses,  nor " 

Salvation  put  out  her  hand  to  stop  her,  and  even  the 
shadows  of  the  room  did  not  hide  the  concern  in  her 
eyes  as  she  spoke. 

"Miss, — er — Lory,  is  that  man  gone?"  she  asked. 
Lora's  face  showed  her  wonderment,  but  Sal  Willis 
went  on:  "I  mean  that  man  from  the  North'ard  I 
heered  ye  was  a-nursin'  over  to  your  house.  Pap's 
been  makin'  a  pretty  big  to-do  over  hit — him  and  that 
Hal  Everett  that's  got  so  thick  last  few  days — Oh,  I 
wisht  he  was  gone !"  she  ended  plaintively. 

Lora's  face  that  had  clouded  with  indignation  at  the 
girl's  first  reference  to  Billy  Peter's  or  Hal's  comment 
about  her  affairs,  softened  as  she  saw  the  real  concern 
of  the  Willis  girl.    She  spoke  lightly. 

"Now,  don't  you  go  to  worrying  any  about  me, 


146  JUNE  GOLD 

Sal,"  she  said  gently.  "I  can  take  care  of  myself — ^and 
if  I  couldn't  my  dad  can  take  care  of  me.  When,  oh, 
when!"  and  she  threw  her  arms  out  In  a  gesture  all- 
embracing,  "will  the  people  around  here  learn  that  a 
trained  nurse  is  doing  no  harm  if  she  nurses  a  man 
who  is  in  bed  instead  of  a  woman?  No,  Sal,"  and  she 
came  over  and  put  her  arm  about  the  slight  figure 
huddled  in  the  chair,  hugging  the  baby,  "there's  noth- 
ing to  worry  about.  That  man  was  not  giving  me  a 
thought — except  that  he  was  a  little  grateful  I  think, 
because  I  pulled  him  out  of  the  water,  and  if  he  had 
there  would  have  been  no  wrong  in  it " 

Salvation  Willis  continued  to  weep  and  to  shudder 
convulsively.  She  clutched  Lora^s  hands  with  one  of 
her  work  hardened  ones. 

"Just  the  same,  I'm  skeered,  Lory,"  she  tremored, 
"I'm  skeered  for  ye — oh,  I  wisht  he  would  go 
away !" 

Lora  patted  the  rumpled  hair  of  the  sitting  girl. 

"Sallie,  child,"  she  told  her,  "some  day  things  may 
be  different  for  you,  and  you  may  not  always  know 
only  the  sort  of  ignorant,  fool  idiots  of  men  you've 
always  known  around  here.  Some  day  you  may  know 
gentlemen — gentlemen  like  Mr.  Steele — and  when  you 
do,  you'll  know  how  much  safer  a  girl  is  with  them 
than  with  those  who  can  think  only  evil."     She  took 


JUNE  GOLD  147 

the  girl's  head  in  her  hands,  and  looked  deeply  In  her 
eyes.    "Don't  you  believe  in  me,  Sal?" 

Sal's  look  was  one  of  adoration. 

"I  believe  you're  an  angel !"  she  repeated,  slowly  and 
with  pent-up  passion  in  her  tones. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  combers  that  were  tossing  in  toward  the 
sandy  beach  were  mountain  high.  How  often 
he  had  heard  the  expression,  and  how  silly  it 
had  always  seemed  to  exaggerate  so.  But  these  were 
— that  was  just  it,  mountain  high.  Strange  looking 
combers,  too.  Topped  with  deep  yellowish-brown 
froth ;  clear  brown  and  sparkling.  He  had  never  seen 
such  water  before.  Looked  a  good  deal  like  beer  had 
looked  in  the  good  old  days  when  a  man  could  look 
upon  it.  Why,  it  was  beer.  He  could  tell  by  the 
never-to-be-forgotten  odor  as  the  combers  rolled  in 
and  broke  in  froth  at  his  feet  as  he  stood  on  the  sand 
dunes. 

But  as  he  looked  about  for  some  receptacle  to  hold 
the  amber  fluid  so  that  he  might  further  prove  by 
another  sense  that  the  ocean  had  turned  to  malt  brew, 
his  gaze  was  transfixed  by  another  sight.  There  was 
a  ship  out  there  a-top  one  of  those  combers.  In 
trouble,  too.  He  could  not  make  it  out  well  at  first, 
in  the  semi-darkness,  but  as  it  rose  to  the  crest  of  the 
brown-white  foam  it  took  shape — a  shape  as  queer  as 
the  combers  themselves.  Why,  this  ship  was  in  the 
shape  of  a  huge  bottle,  but  there  were  people  in  it, 

148 


JUNE  GOLD  149 

queer  little  figures  struggling  to  clamber  out  and  throw 
themselves  into  the  foaming  brew.  Such  a  huge  bot- 
tle. Then  a  comber  huger  than  the  rest  rose  and  the 
bottle  ship  and  its  crew  and  passengers  came  flying 
toward  him  on  the  sand.  He  felt  the  impact — felt 
himself  thrown  into  the  wet  brown  sand.  He  was 
strangling.  He  struck  out,  but  was  only  smothered 
more  futilely  in  the  sand.  Then  he  felt  a  hand  pull 
him  out,  gradually,  fighting  against  the  turmoil  of 
sand  and  water  that  was  beer.  Dimly  he  could  make 
out  that  it  was  a  woman's  hand,  and  as  the  brown 
brew  for  a  moment  dashed  the  sand  from  his  eyes,  he 
could  see  the  owner  of  the  hand.  Why,  it  was  Lora! 
Lora  Humphrey — come  to  save  him  from  that  welter 
of  beer  and  sand  and  the  bottle  ship  that  was  careening 
so  threateningly 

Harrison  Steele  opened  his  eyes  to  see  black  Henry 
Beck  standing  over  him,  his  face  one  ivory-toothed 
grin  as  he  pulled  aside  the  blanket  with  which  the 
broker  had  all  but  asphyxiated  himslf. 

"Mos*  strangle  yo'self  that  time,  Marse  Harrison," 
he  said,  as  Steele  sat  up  and  tried  to  collect  his  senses, 
to  wonder  about  the  sudden  disappearance  of  the 
bottle  ship  and  the  girl  who  was  for  the  second  time 
in  the  act  of  rescuing  him.  "Yo'  all  had  them  kivers 
so  tight  about  yo'  neck,  I  couldn't  ha'dly  distangle 
'em !" 


150  JUNE  GOLD 

"Hmmph!"  grunted  Steele.  His  eyes  peered  out 
through  the  vine-shaded  windows  at  the  dim  flicker 
of  hght  that  came  through  the  moss-hung  trees.  "Did 
I  yell?  How'd  you  happen  to  come  in  just  in  time 
to  pull  me  out  of  the  deep  dark  depths  of  two  blankets? 
What  time  is  it?"  He  yawned  sleepily  and  shivered 
slightly  in  the  chill  as  he  started  to  pull  up  the  dis- 
ordered blankets.     "About  two  or  three  o'clock?'* 

Henry  opened  his  mouth  so  wide  that  each  of  his 
full  set  of  strong  white  teeth  glittered  in  the  dusk. 

"No,  sah!"  he  exclaimed.  "No  two  o'clock,  sah 
— time  to  git  up.  Ole  sun'll  be  up  over  the  tree  tops 
befo'  you-all  kin  say  Jack  Robinson — an'  them  bait 
is  jes'  a  wrigglin'  to  be  et  by  a  drum  fish.  No,  sah, 
I  was  jes'  a-comin'  in  to  tell  yo-all  that  lay  in'  down 
time  was  all  over,  when  I  seed  yo-all  a-wrestlin'  wid 
dem  kivers,  an'  a-hollerin'  like  all  git  out '* 

"Hmmph!"  murmured  Steele.  He  wondered  just 
exactly  what  he  had  been  hollering  all  git  out  about, 
but  hoped  that  the  name  of  the  girl  who  had  been  such 
a  vivid  rescuer  in  his  dream  had  not  escaped  him.  "All 
right,  Henry,"  he  agreed  sleepily.  "I'll  turn  out — be 
ready  by  the  time  you  have  breakfast  set — but  I  must 
say  it's  the  first  time  I  ever  got  up  in  tlie  middle  of 
the  night  to  go  fishing."  He  slid,  half  protesting,  out 
of  bed  as  the  negro  hurried  away  to  do  his  bidding. 

As  his  man  servant  had  prophesied,  the  sun  was  just 


JUNE  GOLD  151 

coming  up  over  the  tree  tops  as  the  two  stepped  off 
the  lodge  porch  and  swung  off  down  the  winding  trail 
that  led  to  the  ocean  side  of  the  island.  The  city  man 
opened  his  lungs  deep  to  breathe  in  the  salt  tang  of 
the  air  that  came  to  his  nostrils  from  the  sea,  scented 
with  the  odors  of  the  aromatic  growths  through 
which  it  came.  Little  lakes,  or  ponds  with  which  the 
island  was  fairly  dotted  came  into  view  as  they  went 
along.  Startled  at  the  approaching  footsteps,  wood 
ducks  rose  from  the  waters  with  a  musical  whirr  of 
wings.  More  than  once,  Steele  spied  an  alligator 
slipping  off  his  log  bed  into  the  waters  beneath  the 
ducks.  It  was  wild,  this  island — there  was  no  doubt 
of  that. 

So  engrossed  was  Steele  with  his  drum  fishing  in 
the  breakers  at  which  he  soon  promised  to  become 
adept  under  the  wise  guidance  of  black  Henry,  that 
the  sun  had  risen  high  in  the  heavens  before  he  noticed 
the  passage  of  time.  To  the  negro,  however,  the  time 
was  passing  more  slowly.  He  would  not  have  noticed 
it  had  he  been  fishing  himself,  but  he  was  put  to  it 
to  find  a  way  to  pass  the  time  while  his  pupil, 
no  longer  needing  him,  cast  for  the  big  drum.  So  he 
had  set  about  hunting  seaturtle  eggs  in  the  sands, 
and  his  triumphant  yell  came  from  time  to  time  to  the 
fisherman.  At  a  particularly  exuberant  cry,  Steele 
turned  to  glance  toward  the  negro  who  was  some 


152  JUNE  GOLD 

distance  down  the  beach  struggling  with  something. 

''Hi,  Marse  Harrison/'  he  yelled.  "Got  him  dat 
time !  A  big  fellow !  Jes'  come  an'  look !"  The  negro 
gave  a  final  grunt  and  a  struggle  and  stood  back  to 
look  at  his  trophy.  He  had  run  down  a  big  sea  turtle 
and  turned  him  over  on  his  back  so  that  Steele  could 
get  a  good  view  of  him. 

But  as  Steele  had  turned  to  see  Henry  at  the  latter's 
cry,  he  had  also  seen  some  one  else  on  the  sand 
dunes.  The  appearance  of  another  man  at  this  wild 
spot  brought  back  to  him  how  lonely  it  was,  how  re- 
moved from  civilization.  He  might  indeed,  he 
thought,  have  been  a  Robinson  Crusoe  on  a  desert 
island  and  Henry  his  man  Friday.  A  true  desert 
shore — save  for  one  thing.  Near  where  Steele  was 
fishing  was  a  tall  post  driven  securely  into  the  sands. 
It  was,  he  knew,  one  of  those  scattered  posts  which 
have  been  erected  by  the  coast  guard,  fitted  with  a 
watchman's  clock  which  the  coast  guard  patrolman 
must  punch  at  regular  intervals  to  prove  that  not  even 
the  most  remote  spots  along  the  sea  are  left  unguarded. 
For  miles,  Cardwell  had  told  Steele,  these  widely  sep- 
arated coast-guard  posts  were  the  only  signs  that 
human  beings  were  any  more  plentiful  than  on  the 
shores  of  the  wildest  of  the  islands  of  the  South  Seas. 
A  single  post  was  a  welcome  something,  too,  in  this 
wilderness  of  ever-changing  sands.     It  was  the  one 


JUNE  GOLD  153 

thing  that  was  fixed;  the  one  thing  from  which  cal- 
culations might  be  made. 

It  was  a  man  in  the  garb  of  a  coast  guard  whom 
Steele  saw  approaching  the  post  near  him  as  he  turned 
to  see  black  Henry's  catch.  The  broker's  face  lighted 
up.  Solitude  might  have  its  advantages,  but  already 
he  was  beginning  to  be  a  bit  tired  of  it,  and  the  pros- 
pect of  a  little  chat,  out  here,  in  the  wilds,  with  a  man 
other  than  the  negro  who  had  made  himself  Steele's 
guide  and  teacher  of  drum  fishing  was  a  welcome 
break  in  what  had  already  begun  to  be  a  bit  monoton- 
ous. 

Apparently  unconscious  that  there  was  another 
human  on  the  wide  stretch  of  sand  dunes  and  hollows, 
the  man  had  advanced  to  the  post  and  punched  the 
clock  before  he  turned  to  face  Steele  who  advanced 
toward  him  with  a  smile  of  welcome.  But  that  smile 
faded  as  Steele  looked  into  the  darkened  face  and 
sullen  eyes  of  the  man  who  confronted  him.  For 
a  moment  he  was  at  a  loss.  Himself  so  gregarious, 
so  eager  for  companionship,  he  could  not  imagine  why 
the  coast  guardsman  should  be,  in  the  language  of  the 
natives,  so  "stand-offish."  Then  he  remembered.  He 
was  facing  the  man  whom  he  had  first  seen  over  the 
shoulder  of  Lora  Humphrey  as  he  lay  in  the  Hum- 
phrey's spare  room  recovering  from  his  accident.  The 
man  was  Hal  Everett,  the  man  w^hom  he  had  been 


154  JUNE  GOLD 

told  by  the  girl's  father  was  her  suitor,  and  whom  his 
own  eyes  had  told  him  had  a  bit  more  than  resented 
his,  Steele's,  presence,  in  the  girl's  home. 

Steele  advanced  toward  Everett,  who  still  stood 
stock  still  beside  the  guard  post.  He  would  speak  to 
the  man  anyway.  It  was  foolishness  for  the  fellow 
to  act  as  he  had  before,  and  was  now  acting.  But  his 
welcoming  hand  dropped  to  his  side  as  he  saw  the 
guardsman  scowl. 

"Good  morning,"  greeted  Steele  pleasantly.  "Nice 
day — but  pretty  lonely  out  here  for  anything  but  a 
turtle,  eh?"  and  his  hand  waved  toward  Henry's  cap- 
tured trophy  as  it  lay  on  its  back,  its  thick  short  legs 
kicking  futilely  in  the  air. 

For  a  moment  Everett  did  not  answer.  A  nasty 
sneer  curled  his  lips  as  he  stuck  both  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  surveyed  Steele  insultingly. 

"Lonely,  maybe,"  he  grunted  at  last,  "but  I  can't 
say  it  hain't  better  than  makin'  the  acquaintance  of  a 
man  of  your  stripe " 

Steele  flushed,  and  he  took  a  step  forward,  but  be- 
fore he  could  speak,  could  resent  the  insult,  Hal 
Everett  went  on,  as  he  jerked  his  thumb  over  his 
shoulder  toward  the  resounding  breakers:  "Talk  to 
the  likes  o'  you  ?  Hell !  Why,  I  wouldn't  lend  a  hand 
to  haul  you  out  if  you  was  drownin'  out  there!" 

For  a  moment  more,  Steele's  muscles  tensed,  his  jaw 


JUNE  GOLD  155 

protruded  in  the  manner  that  his  intimates  could  have 
told  boded  no  good  for  an  enemy,  and  he  seemed 
about  to  spring  on  the  insulting  coast  guard.  Ev- 
erett's eyes  glinted  as  he  braced  his  legs  in  the  sand 
for  the  expected  onslaught.  But  as  suddenly  as 
Steele's  face  had  clouded,  a  sardonic  smile  passed  over 
it.     He  stepped  back  with  a  contemptuous  shrug. 

"Don't  know  but  what  I'd  rather  go  to  Davy  Jones' 
locker  any  time  than  have  to  submit  to  the  humiliation 
of  being  rescued  by  the  *likes  of  you,'  "  he  retorted, 
then  the  devil  of  taunting  which  possessed  him  for  a 
moment  made  him  fling  back,  as  he  turned  away  and 
walked  over  to  observe  Henry's  turtle:  ^'However, 
it's  very  unlikely  I  shall  require  any  further  efforts 
of  gallant  heroism  in  my  behalf  while  I  remain  on 
Bogue  Island.  But,"  and  he  could  not  resist  a 
meaning  laugh  as  he  added:  ''when  I  did  need  help, 
it  was  a  brave  woman  who  came  to  my  rescue,  and 
not  a  bally  rotter !" 

One  minute,  that  drew  itself  out  to  two,  then  three, 
passed  as  the  darkening  flood  of  anger  flushed  the 
guardsman's  face.  As  Steele  remembered  them  from 
his  first  meeting  with  the  man,  his  teeth  were  bared 
over  his  drawn-back  lips  in  an  animal  snarl.  The 
wide  eyes  of  black  Henry  were  popping  from  his  head 
as  he  watched  the  two  white  men.  There  was  nothing 
to  it     They  must  clash  in  a  moment.     He  looked 


156  JUNE  GOLD 

around  for  a  handy  weapon  so  that  he  might  enter 
the  fray.  He  could  not  let  this  fighting  guardsman 
get  the  best  of  his  Marse  Harrison.  Only  Harrison 
Steele,  himself,  seemed  unimpressed,  and  his  whole 
attention  seemed  upon  the  turtle  which  he  was  inves- 
tigating with  the  toe  of  his  heavy  boot.  But  with  as 
great  suddenness  as  had  come  his  anger,  another  mood 
overtook  Hal  Everett.  For  some  reason  best  known 
to  himself  he  decided  not  to  fight  the  man  from  the 
Northward — not  just  there  and  then  at  any  rate.  With 
a  muttered  oath,  a  hint  of  a  future  time  coming,  he 
turned  on  his  heel  and  swung  of^  down  the  beach,  his 
giant  strides  eating  up  the  miles  of  the  sand  dunes. 

"Lawsy!"  The  whites  of  Henry's  eyes  rolled  in 
the  direction  of  the  retreating  man,  but  all  his  teeth 
were  shining  as  he  spoke  to  Steele.  "Lawsy  massy, 
Marse  Harrison,"  he  ejaculated  in  wonderment, 
^^effen  dat  had  been  a  nigger  usin'  such  confusin'  words 
to  me,  him  an'  me'd  a  fit,  sho' !  Humph !"  and  he 
shook  his  woolly  head  wonderingly,  "  'pears  lake  white 
folkses  an'  niggers  do  things  a  heap  diffunt!" 

Steele  smiled  calmly. 

"There  was  no  reason  for  me  wanting  to  fight  the 
man,  Henry,"  he  explained.  'T  have,  or  at  least  had, 
nothing  against  him — and  if  he  wanted  to  be  a  cad, 
there  was  no  particular  reason  I  should  be  one, 
too " 


JUNE  GOLD  157 

But  the  negro  still  shook  his  head.  He  glanced 
at  Steele  a  bit  inquiringly,  then  hesitated  as  he  stam- 
mered: "Yo-yo-all  wa'nt  af eared  of  him,  was  yo*, 
Marse  Harrison?" 

Steele's  tolerant  smile  deepened  to  a  grin  as  he  shook 
his  head  in  return. 

"No,  Henry,"  he  replied.  "Don't  believe  I  was. 
Believe  I  could  have  taken  care  of  myself  had  it  come 
to  that,  but — I've  done  a  bit  with  the  gloves  in  my 
time,"  he  added,  and  it  was  a  reminiscent  smile  as 
he  recalled  the  real  prowess  he  had  gained  in  his  uni- 
versity and  since  at  the  manly  art.  "No,  it  was  just 
a  matter  of  'what's  the  use.' " 

Misunderstanding  Henry's  head  wobbled  mourn- 
fully.   A  new  idol  had  tottered  a  bit. 

"Wisht  you  had  a-mommicked  him  up  a  little  bit, 
though,  Marse  Henry,"  he  mourned.  "He  needs  it. 
Ah  tell  yo-all  that  Hal  Everett's  a  bad  man.  Fellow's 
got  to  be  keerful  has  he  a  grudge  agin  'um."  And  he 
gathered  up  the  fishing  tackle  with  Steele's  morning 
catch  as  they  prepared  to  start  back  to  the  lodge  for 
the  noonday  meal,  a  matter  which  to  the  broker, 
stimulated  as  he  was  by  his  unwonted  morning  exer- 
cise, was  of  far  greater  import  at  the  moment  than 
any  thing  the  coast  guardsman  might  think  of  him, 
or  how  great  might  be  the  grudge  he  held. 

Harrison  Steele  was  idly  finishing  his  after-dinner 


158  JUNE  GOLD 

cigar  as  he  watched  the  flamingos  daintily  dressing 
their  gaudy  feathers  on  the  edge  of  the  swamp  nearest 
the  lodge  when  Henry  came  out  to  him  in  a  twitter 
of  excitement. 

^'Company,  Marse  Harrison,"  he  announced 
proudly,  and  at  his  master's  inquiring  gaze,  added: 
*'That  gal  from  the  hammocks  is  just  a-polin'  her 
skiff  right  up  to  the  landin'.  She'll  be  here  in  a 
minute." 

The  man's  lassitude  dropped  from  him  like  a  cloak. 
Forgetful  of  his  desire  for  idleness  of  the  moment 
before,  he  leapt  to  his  feet  and  bounded  down  the 
path  toward  the  landing  on  the  land  side  of  the  island. 
Lora  Humphrey  was  poling  her  slight  craft  into  the 
shallow  waters. 

"Ahoy,  there,  ashore!"  she  called  gayly.  "Is  the 
hermit  of  Bogue  Island  prepared  for  visitors?" 

"Always!  Some  visitors,"  was  the  man's  amended 
reply  as  he  lightly  caught  the  bow  of  the  skiff  and 
pulled  it  ashore,  giving  the  girl  his  hand  to  assist  her 
to  alight.  "Didn't  know  how  lonesome  I  was  till  I 
heard  your  voice." 

The  girl  laughed  as  she  reached  down  for  a  basket 
in  the  bottom  of  the  skiff. 

"Henry  may  be  insulted,"  she  declared,  indicating 
the  basket  as  Steele  took  it  from  her,  "but  I  had  a 
notion  that  even  hermits  might  like  a  bit  of  woman's 


JUNE  GOLD  159 

cookery  sometimes.  Besides/'  and  her  laughter  was 
as  lilting  as  the  songs  of  the  birds  the  man  had  heard 
all  day  in  the  forests,  "you're  still  under  my  care,  you 
know,  and  I  must  attend  to  your  diet." 

"Fine!"  thanked  the  man,  "and  more  than  fine  for 
you  to  bring  it  over  yourself.  Of  course,  I'm  de- 
lighted with  your  gift,  but  the  gift  of  your  presence 
in  the  desert  is  a  greater  one." 

"Then  if  you're  so  glad  to  see  me,"  the  girl  went 
on,  as  they  strolled  up  the  tangled  path  toward  the 
lodge,  "you  won't  be  bored  with  what  I  want  you 
to  do — and  you  won't  laugh  at  me?" 

The  man  shook  his  head  decidedly.  "Never  a 
laugh,"  he  affirmed.  "I've  told  you  that  before.  But 
what  is  it — have  you  been  having  an  ouija  message 
from  Blackbeard  or  something  of  the  sort?" 

Lora  Humphrey  shook  her  finger  at  him  warningly. 
"You  promised  not  to  laugh,"  she  chided,  but  then 
something  in  her  tone  grew  more  serious  as  she  went 
on.  "Not  a  message  exactly,"  she  said,  "but  oh,  Mr. 
Steele,  I  do  want  to  have  a  try  at  finding  that  treasure 
— and  I  want  you  to  help  me.  Sometimes  things  have 
come  to  me  that  make  me  think  I  could  almost  go 
right  to  the  spot  where  the  old  pirate  hid  his  gold 
doubloons  and  everything — I'm  almost  sure  I  would 
know  the  spot  if  I  saw  it,  for  it  has  come  to  me  so 
much  plainer  than  a  dream  several  times — but  I  would 


160  JUNE  GOLD 

have  to  explore  the  island  likely,  and — and — er " 

She  stopped  embarrassed. 

Steele  finished  for  her:  "And  there  are  other 
dangers  here  than  snakes  and  alligators  wearing  their 
natural  skins — coast  guardsmen  and  so  on,  I  should 
make  a  hazard."  But  Lora  stopped  him  with  a  flush 
as  she  sunk  into  a  cushioned  chair  on  the  lodge  porch. 

"No,  no — not — er — Hal  !'*  she  exclaimed,  and  there 
was  scorn  in  her  eyes  as  she  went  on.  "You  don't 
think  I'd  be  afraid  of  him?" 

Steele  laughed  admiringly  as  he  remembered  how 
the  girl  had  faced  her  admirer.  "I  believe  you  can 
handle  him,"  he  declared,  "but " 

"Well,  you  know  those  proger  squatters  down  on 
the  end  of  the  island,"  the  girl  explained.  "They 
aren't  always  on  their  end  of  the  island,  either,  and — 
oh,  well,  they're  queer!  The  principal  thing  I 
want  you  to  go  with  me  for,  though,"  she  hurried 
on,  "is  that  you  don't  belong  around  here,  and  you 
promised  you  wouldn't  laugh  at  me.  Everybody  here 
laughs  at  everybody  else  who  goes  treasure  hunting, 
but " 

Steele  eyed  her  keenly  as  he  sat  swinging  his  feet 
from  the  rustic  porch  rail  of  the  lodge. 

"Then  you  think  you  have  an  idea  of  where  to 
look?"  he  asked  her.  "Have  you  been  seeing  the 
money  lights?" 


JUNE  GOLD  161 

She  nodded  soberly.  *'Last  night,"  she  affirmed. 
*'At  first  I  thought  I  was  dreaming — probably  I  was 
— but  then  I  got  up  and  looked  out  of  the  window, 
and — and — I  saw  them.  I  almost  believe  I  could  go 
right  to  the  place " 

Steele  dropped  down  from  his  perch  and  picked  up 
his  cap  that  had  rolled  to  the  floor. 

"Shall  we  have  a  try.^"  he  asked,  and  the  girl, 
closely  watching  him,  saw  that  he  was  keeping  his 
promise  to  take  the  matter  as  seriously  as  she  wished. 

The  sun  was  dropping  low  over  the  sea  scape  a 
few  hours  later  when  the  two  came  to  a  stop  at  the 
top  of  a  sand  dune  and  gazed  about  them.  In  the 
girl's  eyes  there  was  an  expression  of  disappointment 
that  was  greater  than  the  weariness  brought  on  by 
their  hours  of  tramping,  as  she  looked  about  her. 

"And  I  could  have  sworn  I  could  go  right  to  the 
place  where  I  saw  the  lights,'*  she  complained,  as  she 
dropped  down  on  the  sand.    "But  I  won't  give  up." 

"Better  chart  that  dream  the  next  time,"  suggested 
Steele  with  a  flicker  of  humor.  "This  is  a  bigger 
island  than  I  thought." 

As  he  gazed  out  over  the  turbulent  waters  of  the 
Atlantic,  the  man's  thoughts  were  a  jumble  of  many 
ideas.  How  strange  it  all  seemed!  Just  a  day  or 
so  before,  he  had  been  high  up  in  the  granite  chasms 
of  Wall  Street,  with  no  other  thoughts  than  the  figures 


162  JUNE  GOLD 

a  ticker  was  clicking  forth.     Now  here  he  was,  on  a 
desert  island,  practically  with  a  girl  he  had  not  known 
then,  but  whom  it  somehow  seemed  he  must  have 
known  for  a  long,  long  time,  perhaps  ages.     Some- 
where out  on  the  sea  in  front  of  them,  his  own  yacht 
was  sailing  away  on  a  piratical  mission  in  his  behalf, 
and  he — he  was  here  with  this  girl  in  all  the  world, 
seriously  searching  out  treasure  that  another  pirate 
had  hidden  somewhere  in  the  sands  beneath  their  feet 
two  centuries  before.     His  thoughts  strayed,  too,  to 
the  smart  homes  where  smart  mothers  had  so  often 
tried  to  gain  his  interest  in  their  ultra  smarter  daugh- 
ters.    His  smile  was  a  little  wry  as  he  thought  of 
what  they  would  say  if  they  could  see  him  now,  could 
know  anything  of  the  thoughts  about  the  girl  at  his 
side   that   were   flitting  through   his   bachelor  mind. 
How  had  it  come  about  ?    What  had  happened  to  him ! 
He  only  knew  that  he  was  contented  as  he  sat  there 
beside  her  and  looked  out  at  the  sea;  that  he  had 
never    known    such    contentment    before.      He — the 
woman-impervious.     Then  his  glance  strayed  to  the 
girl.    He  saw  the  deep  shadows  of  enchantment  in  her 
wide  eyes;  he  saw  the  wild  rose  flush  on  her  smooth 
cheek;  the  same  little  curl  that  strayed  maddeningly 
in  that  soft  spot  at  the  nape  of  her  neck ;  another  shiny 

tendril   that   swept   her   cheek There   was    a 

glow 


JUNE  GOLD  163 

Harrison  Steele  was  roused  from  his  reverie  by  a 
mournful  wailing  from  somewhere  not  far  away.  It 
rose  and  fell  in  solemn  cadence,  as  it  drew  nearer  and 
nearer.  He  sat  up  and  looked  off  in  the  direction  of 
the  sound.  Presently  he  could  distinguish  words  in 
the  half  musical  wails  of  intermingled  masculine  and 
feminine  voices.  Those  voices  held  pleading.  Nasal 
tones  above  the  general  clamor,  exhorted: 

"Come  to  Jesus  !    Come  to  Jesus  !    Come  to  Jesus,  just  now— • 
Ju-H-st  now  He  will  save  you " 

Steele  looked  wonderingly  at  Lora  Humphrey. 
She  jumped  to  her  feet  with  a  laugh. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  know  it  was  as  late  as  that!"  she  ex- 
claimed.    "We  must  hurry " 

"What  Is  it?"  queried  Steele,  nonplussed.  "A  sort 
of  North  Carolina  angelus?" 

The  girl's  shoulders  shrugged.  "Just  those  proger 
squatters  from  the  end  of  the  island  on  their  way  to 
a  Holiness  meeting.  They're  having  a  sort  of  revival 
over  in  the  meeting  house  in  the  hammocks  and  every 
Holinesser  from  everywhere  around  goes  every  night. 
Of  course,  it  goes  without  saying  that  the  squatters 
are  all  Holinessers — that's  their  mentality." 

"You  don't  seem  to  hold  a  very  big  opinion  of  that 
particular  religious  sect,"  Steele  commented  with 
a  smile. 


164  JUNE  GOLD 

The  girl  shook  her  head,  but  was  serious  when  she 
spoke. 

''Religion  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  things  in 
the  world,"  she  said  dreamily,  as  she  started  off  down 
the  trail  toward  the  lodge.  ''But  I  can't  bear  fanati- 
cism! Oh,  if  you  only  knew  the  harm  that  is  done 
by  them  in  the  name  of  religion !"  She  was  passionate 
in  her  earnestness.  "You  may  be  surprised,  but  I  love 
every  soul  in  this  whole  neighborhood,  and  I  can't 
help  regretting  the  harm  that  is  coming  to  them 
through  fanatics.  They're  ignorant  enough,  God  help 
them,  without  being  urged  to  greater  lengths.  You 
would  understand,  if  you  went  to  one  of  their  meet- 
ings once " 

"Your  father  promised  you'd  take  me,  didn't  he? 
You  say  they're  performing  every  night  now.  How 
about  to-morrow  night?" 

Lora  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"If  you  really  wish  it,  of  course,"  she  said.  "But  I 
do  wish  you  wouldn't  laugh  at  all  of  them — some  of 
them  mean  so  well,  but  they're  so  ignorant,  and  their 
leaders  such  fanatics " 

Fanatics!  Again  she  had  used  the  word — ^had 
shown  she  despised  them.  With  a  queer  shudder, 
Steele  wondered  what  Lora  Humphrey  would  think 
if  she  knew  that  his  own  real  mission  on  this  island 
would  never  have  been  brought  about  had  not  he, 


JUNE  GOLD  165 

himself,  and  his  friends,  rebelled  about  what  a  certain 
sort  of  fanaticism  had  brought  to  his  country.  Still 
— there  were  fanatics  and  fanatics! 

As  Steele  helped  Lora  Humphrey  into  her  small 
skiff  a  little  later,  he  could  still  hear  the  mournful 
singing  from  other  skiff -fulls  of  people  who  were 
being  poled  toward  the  mainland: 

"Do  not  tarry;  do  not  tarry;  do  not  tarry  just  now 
Ju-u-u-st  now,  do  not  tarry " 

"To-morrow  night,"  Steele  assured  the  world  at 
large  as  the  girl  took  up  her  pole  in  her  strong  young 
arms  and  shot  it  far  out  into  the  stream. 


CHAPTER  XII 

LIKE  many  another  such  community  in  the  South 
J  where  the  inhabitants  are  the  offspring  of 
pioneers  who  had  come  thus  far,  settled  down 
and  gone  no  further,  the  progeny  for  generations  fol- 
lowing to  do  the  same,  the  natives  of  the  hommock 
lands  surrounding  Bogue  Inlet  were  a  religiously  in- 
clined sort.  That  is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes. 
Church  with  them,  prayer  meeting,  and  when  the  spirit 
was  moving  particularly  high  among  them,  love  feasts, 
camp  meetings  and  revivals  were  a  habit.  All  their 
lives  these  natives  had  heard  the  good  word  about 
strong  drink  being  raging,  but  there  were,  alas,  times 
of  backsliding.  Even  among  the  most  hidebound  of 
them,  the  gentle  practice  of  slipping  backward  was  not 
uncommon,  as  many  a  well-meaning  parson  could 
testify  after  his  siege  of  keeping  his  deacons  and  elders 
sober  at  Christmas  time. 

In  the  particular  community  of  which  Harrison 
Steele  found  himself  so  unexpectedly  a  member,  two 
particular  sects  of  religious  zealots  held  sway.  For 
the  more  intelligent,  those  who  laid  claim  to  more  or 
less  education,  there  was  the  Methodist  church,  with 


JUNE  GOLD  167 

its  circuit-riding  preacher  who  came  at  his  appointed 
time  from  Swansboro  to  minister  to  his  flock,  leaving 
them  to  their  own  devices  and  the  tender  ministra- 
tions of  lay  brothers  and  sisters  for  the  other  three 
Sundays  of  the  month  during  which  he  saved  souls  in 
other  localities.  But  the  Methodists  seemed  to  bear  up 
under  the  burden  fairly  well,  and  as  a  general  thing 
would  have  gone  on  quite  placidly  in  their  spiritual 
way  had  it  not  been  for  the  thorn  in  their  flesh  of  the 
opposing  religion  seekers  known  in  so  many  sections 
as  the  Holiness  band.  Religion,  to  a  Holinesser,  as  the 
natives  called  them,  was,  as  Steele  was  to  come  to 
know,  more  than  a  form.  Church,  its  forms,  their 
beliefs  were  to  them  the  only  emotional  outlet  for  a 
primitive  people  taught  by  the  years  and  their  nearness 
to  the  soil  a  repression  that  would  never  have  found 
vent  otherwise.  To  them,  the  Holiness  Church,  its 
tenets,  its  practices,  were  the  breath  of  life  itself.  To 
one  like  Steele  who  had  never  known  of  them,  it 
seemed  incredible,  at  his  first  telling,  that  sensible 
himian  beings  could  go  to  the  extent  of  emotionalism 
in  religion's  name  that  was  the  regular  practice  of  the 
adherents  of  the  Holiness  band.  Faith,  they  claimed ; 
faith  was  all — the  faith  their  ministers  told  thera 
would  move  the  mountains  as  proclaimed  in  the  Bible. 
Wanting  visual  evidence  of  what  faith  would  do,  they 
did  not  take   it  allegorically,   but  in  their   services 


168  JUNE  GOLD 

sought  to  see  for  themselves  what  might  be  done  with 
their  faith  of  the  size  of  a  good  many  grains  of 
mustard  seed. 

Abstaining  with  them,  was  the  next  thing  to— or 
rather  the  thing  above — doing.  Women  of  the  band 
were  abjured  to  abstain  from  even  the  suggestion  of 
worldly  vanity;  even  the  men  came  in  for  much  of  the 
abjuration,  the  resulting  picture  of  a  worshiping 
band  therefore  holding  a  picturesqueness  that  one  not 
inured  to  the  beliefs  and  practices  of  a  country  people 
far  removed  from  the  influences  of  a  latter  day  civili- 
zation could  little  realize  until  actually  witnessed. 

The  May  revival  of  the  Holiness  band,  when  visit- 
ing ministers  and  "overseers"  from  other  localities 
swooped  down  on  the  hommock  lands  of  Bogue  was 
the  great  event  of  the  year,  rivaling  in  significance  the 
summer  camp  meetings  of  the  "Methodys"  who  did 
their  spiritual  reviving  after  the  stagnation  of  the 
short  winter  with  rather  less  religious  fireworks.  The 
revival  drew  great  crowds  from  all  about,  and  every 
little  home  of  a  Holiness  believer  was  thrown  open  to 
visitors.  Each  day  was  lived  through  with  prayer  and 
praise  and  an  anxious  longing  for  the  shades  of  night 
when  they  might  gather  in  the  small  wooden  church — 
those  of  them  who  could  get  in  (for  many  camped  out- 
side on  the  steps,  or  hung  in  the  windows,  or  sat  in  the 
wood  carts  and  buggies,  or  draped  themselves  on  the 


JUNE  GOLD  169 

picket  fence  surrounding  the  meeting  house  to  hang  on 
what  words  of  reviving  they  could  hear  from  such 
vantage  points).  It  was  at  this  late  May  revival  that 
the  harvest  of  souls  was  ripest,  that  brethren  and 
sistern  could  shout  their  hardest  over  sinners  that  re- 
pented— no  matter  that  the  repentance  might  last  but 
a  few  short  weeks  after  the  fervor  of  shouting  was  but 
a  faint  memory  in  the  trees  about  the  meeting  house. 

It  was  in  a  quaint  old  church  that  the  Holiness  band 
held  their  revivals — in  a  church  instead  of  in  camp 
meeting  grounds  as  did  the  *'Methodys,"  whose  re- 
ligious gatherings  held  a  savor  of  worldliness  with 
their  parading  lovers  and  sightseers  from  miles  around 
who  preferred  the  sawdust  paths  to  the  wooden 
benches  in  front  of  the  exhorting  ministers  Vv'ho  sought 
to  save  them.  Holinessers  boasted  that  they  went  to 
church! 

On  the  evening  that  Lora  Humphrey  had  promised 
to  take  Harrison  Steele  to  see  the  revivalists  of  the 
Holiness  band  at  work,  the  little  wooden  church  began 
to  take  on  life  activities  before  the  sun  had  dropped 
low.  Every  road  leading  to  it  was  filled  with  travel- 
ers who  sought  the  Heaven-ward  guidance  they  be- 
lieved would  be  found  within  its  portals.  Buggies, 
drawn  by  horses  whose  drooping  heads  proclaimed  a 
hard  day  in  the  fields  during  the  season  their  proger 
masters    had    chosen    to    "put    in    crops";    ox-carts. 


170  JUNE  GOLD 

ambling  along  at  the  will  of  sleepy-eyed  beasts  of  bur- 
den whose  day  the  occasional  swift-flying  aeroplanes 
and  hydroplanes  becoming  such  familiar  sights  in  the 
neighborhood  proclaimed  was  done;  "pony-beasts/' 
ridden  by  youths  and  maidens  whose  repressed 
laughter  showed  their  acknowledgment  of  the  serious- 
ness of  the  journey  in  spite  of  youthful  exuberance; 
bands  of  trudging  men  and  matrons  and  sleepy 
children — their  goal  was  the  w^ooden  church  where  the 
minister  who  had  come  to  bring  them  the  word  would 
exhort  from  the  setting  of  the  sun  until  the  stars 
dropped  low.  A  motion  picture  camera  traveling 
along  the  length  of  the  procession  would  have  shown 
them  all  Holinessers.  Here  was  humility  of  raiment. 
Women  in  calico  mother  hubbards  (corsets  were  in- 
struments of  the  Evil  One) ;  women  in  linsey  woolsey, 
bare  feet  sometimes  showing  beneath  humble  garments 
in  a  way  that  would  have  been  befitting  a  female  John 
the  Baptist ;  men,  trailing  along,  or  stalking  on  ahead, 
as  showing  their  several  positions  in  their  house- 
holds— but  always  men,  whether  with  only  the  softness 
of  silky  beard  of  adolescence  or  (like  Uncle  Billy 
Peter  Willis  with  the  careless  gray  growth  of  years 
covering  chin  and  chest)  collarless  and  tieless.  For  be 
it  known  that  collars  and  ties  with  men,  as  with  cor- 
sets with  the  women  were  an  abjuration  with  mem- 
bers of  the  Holiness  band;  as  further,  should  a  man 


JUNE   GOLD  171 

of  the  band  be  discovered  wearing  a  "boiled  shirt"  (as 
occasionally  happened  on  visits  to  the  nearby  towns) 
he  was  automatically  removed  from,  the  Holiness  band. 
During  the  May  revivals,  there  were  no  collars  and 
ties;  there  were  no  ''boiled  shirts." 

It  was  an  old  church — this  one  of  the  Holiness 
band  of  Bogue  Inlet — an  old  wooden  edifice  that  had 
seen  much  service.  But  not  always  in  the  capacity  it 
now  served.  There  had  been  a  time  that  somie  itiner- 
ant Catholic  fathers  had  tried  to  set  up  their  religion 
among  the  abandoned  of  the  inlet.  They  had  long 
since  gone  avvay  discouraged.  Following  them,  two 
or  three  sects  had  occupied  the  small  church  for  a 
time,  but  always  had  found  too  well-intrenched  the 
Methodism  that  dominated  the  progeny  of  an  old  time 
settler  few.  Then,  off  and  on,  had  come  the  Holiness 
band,  to  make  use  of  an  abandoned  edifice.  Off  and 
on — for  it  was  no  new  thing  with  the  Holiness  band 
in  Bogue,  as  in  other  sections  where  they  took  up  the 
work  their  fanaticism  demanded,  to  be  driven  from 
this  stronghold,  as  from  others — only  to  return. 

The  sun,  dropping  low,  cast  its  last  rays  on  peace 
and  quiet,  a  subduedness  of  religious  intensity,  and 
drifted  through  the  opened  front  doors  down  the 
aisles  to  make  geometrical  shadows  pointing  out  into 
the  small  graveyard*  through  the  two  doors  at  either 
side  of  the  box-like  pulpit — a  graveyard  filled  with 


172  JUNE  GOLD 

forgotten  members  of  other  bands  who  had  sought  a 
foothold  in  the  locaHty,  with  here  and  there  a  newer 
grave  showing  care  and  an  upstanding  headstone  of 
rude  cut  granite  as  a  memorial  to  a  Holinesser  not  yet 
forgot.  One  or  two  green  graves  and  headstones 
showing  through  the  tangle  of  myrtle  and  long  hang- 
ing Spanish  moss  that  formed  the  "backyard'*  of  the 
church  of  the  Holinessers. 

It  was  a  box-like  edifice,  too,  much  like  that  a  child 
first  learns  to  draw  in  kindergarten.  Weather  boarded, 
and  with  a  cupola  it  would  have  taken  no  steeplejack 
to  negotiate.  Once  it  had  been  painted,  or  white- 
washed, but  the  proger  propensities  of  its  present  wor- 
shipers had  allowed  its  weather-boarded  sides  to 
scale.  Two  doors  in  front  led  to  uncarpeted  aisles  be- 
tween three  sections  of  wooden  benches — one  on  the 
left  for  the  women,  one  on  the  right  for  the  men — tlie 
middle  sections  reserved  for  the  unregenerate,  or  the 
"courting"  couples  who  had  not  as  yet  decided  to 
choose  right  or  left.  In  what  might  be  designated  as 
the  chancel  of  the  church,  two  sections  of  wooden 
pews,  the  amen  corners  reserved  for  the  elect  flanked 
the  pulpit,  at  the  top  of  three  worn  carpeted  steps 
above  which  it  proudly  reared  itself,  draped  with  its 
red  velvet  table  cover  and  Bible,  and  dignified  In  its 
position  with  its  high-backed  chair  behind  it.  The 
communion  wine  was  usually  kept  in  a  small  cupboard 


JUNE  GOLD  173 

under  the  box  of  the  pulpit,  but  before  revival  the  prac- 
tice had  been  discontinued  since  the  son  of  the  care- 
taker had  been  found  more  or  less  incompetent  on  the 
church  steps  with  cracker-bread  and  wine  both  miss- 
ing. The  two  doors,  one  on  either  side  of  the  pulpit, 
opened  toward  the  small  graveyard  and  the  mass  of 
overhanging  trees  in  the  rear.  In  the  day  services, 
there  was  a  smell  of  hot  honeysuckles  and  a  drowsy 
hum  of  bees,  but  at  night  there  was  as  accompaniment 
to  the  honeysuckles  the  songs  of  whippoorwills — when 
they  could  be  heard  above  the  melee  of  the  worshipers. 
Small  kerosene  lamps  hung  on  the  walls  near  the  win- 
dows; lights  hung  low  enough,  with  a  purpose  and 
easily  detached  from  their  sockets  in  front  of  the  fly- 
specked  reflectors  that  augmented  in  the  least  bit  the 
moonlight  that  was  the  great  illumination  of  the  May 
revivals.  Hitching  posts  outside  a  tumbling  picket 
fence,  a  stile-block  where  equestrians  might  alight 
from  "side  saddles,"  and  a  rude  tree-branched  shelter 
for  *'horsebeasts"  and  various  wagons  outside  the 
fence,  proved  that  the  Holiness  church  in  times  of  re- 
vival took  care  of  its  own. 

The  last  Saturday  night  of  revival  week  was  the 
great,  the  vital  test  of  spirituality.  Then,  if  ever,  souls 
were  to  be  saved.  Harrison  Steele,  asking  Lora  Hum- 
phrey to  take  him  to  a  Holiness  meeting,  knew  nothing 
of  this,  knew  nothing  of  time  itself  save  that  the  sun 


174  JUNE   GOLD 

rose  and  set,  and  that  with  each  setting,  he  had  to  climb 
a  sand  dune  and  repeat  to  himself  a  formula  that  he 
was  more  familiar  wdth  as  a  reminiscence  of  school- 
boy oratory  than  as  a  real,  existing  thing. 

''One  if  by  land — two  if  by  sea — hell  of  a  thing  if 
I  get  it  twisted,"  he  remarked,  as  he  placed  the  last 
bit  of  tinder  under  the  second  stack  of  drift  wood  be- 
fore he  left  his  sand-dune  hill  top  to  play  hookey  with 
Lora  Humphrey  at  a  Holiness  revival. 

His  first  thought  as  he  approached  his  first  Holiness 
meeting  was  a  distinct  feeling  of  disappointment,  as 
though  he  had  been  promised  a  knock-out  at  a  vaude- 
ville show  and  it  had  failed  to  materialize.  Lora 
Humphrey  drew  rein  on  her  horse  a  good  hundred 
yards  back  from  the  ''stile  block"  to  the  meeting  house 
and  put  her  finger  to  her  lip. 

"S-s-h!"  she  warned.  "Don't  make  a  sound!  They 
haven't  begun  yet.  We'll  get  off  here  and  picket  our 
horses  out  of  sight.  They're  not  always  anxious  for 
outsiders.  Now,  be  on  your  good  behavior,  no  matter 
what  happens." 

"Hmmph!"  remarked  Harrison  Steele,  characteris- 
tically, "what  could?" 

Only  the  eerie  sound  of  the  evening  breeze  from  the 
Sound  through  the  trees  broke  the  hush  of  the  moment. 
Then,  as  from  a  distance,  there  broke  in  on  the  man's 


JUNE  GOLD  175 

ears  the  same  wailing  he  had  heard  on  the  island  but 
a  short  time  before. 

*'It's  the  old-time  religion,  the  old-time  religion, 
The  old-time  religion — it's  good  enough  for  me " 


"We're  in  time/'  whispered  Lora.  "Come  on/' 
Harrison  Steele  slipped  the  drop  loop  over  his 
horse's  head  that  he  had  learned  once  from  a  traffic 
policeman  in  New  York — not,  he  remembered  with  a 
grin,  as  befitted  an  adventurer,  from  a  cowboy  or  his 
ilk — and  followed  the  girl  who  went  forward  decor- 
ously, smoothing  the  wrinkles  out  of  a  riding  habit 
w^hose  length  of  skirt  and  high-necked  bodice  would 
not  have  caught  the  eye  of  the  editor  of  a  New  York 
pictorial,  he  thought,  with  another  inward  grin.  But 
how  attractive  she  was  in  it. 

The  silence  actually  pricked.  Then,  as  though 
from  the  distance,  but  near  at  hand,  he  heard 
sonorous  words.  It  was  the  visiting  minister  to  the 
Holiness  band,  giving  his  text  from  where  he  stood 
in  the  box  pulpit. 

"Isaiah:  13-6.  Howl  ye!  For  the  day  of  the  Lord  is  at 
hand;  it  shall  come  as  a  day  of  destruction  from  the  Al- 
mighty." 

A  single  unisoned  groan  from  those  occupying  the 
benches  flanking  the  pulpit — the  already  saved — those 


176  JUNE  GOLD 

in  the  seats  of  the  Almighty — answered  the  opening 
words  of  the  prophet.  The  trees  seemed  to  shiver  with 
the  repressed  feelings  of  those  who  had  come  to  seek — 
and  to  howl — but  so  far  saw  no  reason  for  it. 

Lora  Humphrey  and  Harrison  Steele  slipped 
silently  into  two  vacant  seats  in  the  middle  section  of 
the  church.  Lora  smiled  in  neighborly  fashion  at  the 
girl  who  drew  aside  for  her,  but  her  smile  was  met 
gingerly  by  the  child  of  the  hommocks  who  drew  her 
calico  one-piece  garment  (fashionable  had  she  but 
known  it)  aside  in  an  unconsciously  coquettish  ges- 
ture to  make  room  for  Lora  and  the  man  from  the 
Northwards. 

The  two  were  marked  figures  in  the  crush  seeking 
salvation.  The  girl's  smart  riding  habit,  her  finish  that 
spoke  of  worlds  beyond  their  own;  the  man's  un- 
doubted cosmopolitan  outlook  on  the  naive  meeting  all 
had  tlieir  influence  on  the  crowd  who  either  drew  more 
together  or  stared  openly  at  the  intruders.  Craned 
necks  obtruded  on  the  prayer  that  followed,  as  Lora 
and  Steele,  following  the  example  of  the  companions, 
turned  and  knelt,  face  downward,  at  the  seats  they 
occupied. 

Steele  leaned  over  to  whisper  to  Lora. 

**How  long  must  we  do  this  ?" 

*'Just  a  moment — and  don't  let  it  hurt  your  feelings 
too  much" — she  covered  her  mouth  with  her  hand, 


JUNE  GOLD  177 


"you*re  not  half  as  badly  off  as  the  man  father  loves 
to  tell  about " 

The  sonorous  chant  of  the  men  kneeling  by  the  box 
pulpit,  with  the  interjections  of  the  saved  in  their 
amen  corners  reached  the  whisperers : 

"He  is  so  precious  to  us !  Glory  to  His  name.  Oh, 
if  the  unsaved  could  realize  the  great  love  He  has  for 
them — He  sure  blesses  them  and  feeds  our  souls — We 
pray  they  will  sure  turn  from  sin  and 

"My  knees  hurt,'*  whispered  Steele.  "I'm  an 
invalid 

Lora  Humphrey,  knowing  something  of  the  length 
of  improvised  prayer  of  the  Holinessers,  edged  a  little 
nearer  her  Northern  guest. 

"And  as  I  was  saying,"  she  went  on,  as  though  there 
had  been  no  interlude  of  prayer  and  following  a  custom 
of  many  of  the  youth  of  Methodist  and  Holiness  faith 
whose  wooing  is  done  on  their  knees,  literally,  "dad 
tells  about  this  girl.  Her  name  was  Sallle  Skinner. 
She  was  at  a  revival  meeting,  but  the  coast  guardsman 
who  was  her  sweetheart,  didn't  think  much  of  that. 
They'd  had  a  good  deal  of  an  argument  up  at  Swans- 
boro  and  she  had  left  him  and  her  only  trail  led  to  the 
meeting  house.  He  came  in  just  as  all  the  prayer  had 
been  said  and  they  were  calling  for  lost  souls  to  be 
saved.  Down  the  aisle  paraded  our  coast-guard  friend. 
'Glory  be,'  shouted  the  preacher,  ^another  looking  for 


178  JUNE   GOLD 

salvation!'  'Not  on  your  life/  said  the  coast  guards- 
man, 'I'm  lookin'  for  Sal  Skinner '  " 

Harrison  Steele  smiled  as  appreciatively  as  though 
the  story  had  not  been  an  old  favorite  in  his  salad 
davs. 

The  prayer  ended  with  a  chorus  of  Amens  and  half 
eager  groans  as  though  some  of  the  worshipers 
could  scarcely  wait  until  it  should  be  their  own  turn  to 
take  part  in  the  services.  Steele  and  Lora  rose  and 
took  their  seats  decorously,  their  eyes  attentively  on  the 
minister,  flanked  by  visiting  brothers  occupying 
rickety  wooden  chairs  at  either  side  of  the  pulpit. 
Men  and  women  settled  themselves  back  to  listen. 
Even  before  he  started  his  discourse,  there  was  a  wild- 
ness  in  the  eyes  of  the  minister  which  the  man  from 
New  York  could  not  but  note,  and  wonder  if  there  was 
any  real  message  that  such  a  fanatic  might  have  to 
convey.  There  was  repression  in  the  very  atmosphere, 
pregnant  with  a  sort  of  emotional  electricity  that  one 
felt  needed  but  the  spark  to  start  an  explosion.  There 
was  a  strange  quality  of  leadership  about  the  man, 
nevertheless,  which  the  Northerner  wondered  might 
not  have  accomplished  much  had  it  been  bent  in  other 
than  the  fanatical  direction  it  had  taken. 

He  straightened  up  his  tall  thin  body  to  its  greatest 
height  as  he  began.  Then,  as  he  warmed  up  to  his 
discourse,  that  tall  body  writhed — he  told  them  of  hell, 


JUNE   GOLD  179 

damnation — all  that  the  unregenerate  might  expect. 
It  was  a  vivid  picture  of  red  hot  coals  and  frying  sin- 
ners that  he  pictured  as  the  groans  of  the  congregation 
grew  more  and  more  frequent.  At  first  there  had  been 
a  stillness  through  which  the  whippoorwilFs  songs 
could  be  heard  as  obbligato  to  the  parson.  Gradually 
they  were  drowned  out.  The  speaker  waved  his  long 
arms  like  flails.  He  pointed  familiarly  at  his  audience 
as  he  accused  them  of  unregeneracy ;  pictured  what 
they  might  expect  if  they  did  not  seek  and  find  the 
salvation  he  held  out  to  them.  Into  the  hawklike  face 
there  came  the  look  of  the  avenger;  he  was  not  pic- 
turing a  God  of  love  or  pity;  his  was  only  a  God  of 
wrath.  He  exhorted  that  they  find  the  way  to  safety 
through  the  only  portals  open  to  them — the  narrow, 
narrow  path  painfully  tracked  out  to  Heaven  by  him- 
self and  others  of  the  Holiness  faith.  That  his  diction 
was  anything  but  pure,  that  he  frequently  fell  into  col- 
loquialisms in  his  fervor,  that  he  so  often  made  use  of 
the  word  ''sure"  fell  on  ears  all  unheeding  save  those 
of  Steele  and  his  girl  companion  who  could  not  refrain 
from  slight  smiles  at  each  other  at  its  fortieth  or 
fiftieth  repetition.  The  man's  hearers  might  have  been 
hanging  on  the  words  of  the  Godhead.  His  grip  on 
his  audience  was  undoubted — his  oratorical  power 
crude  but  powerful.  In  the  flicker  of  misery  that  oc- 
casionally swept  over  his  rapt  countenance,  it  could 


180  JUNE  GOLD 

be  seen  that,  according  to  his  lights,  he  was  fighting  a 
death  battle  with  the  powers  of  darkness,  but  fighting 
them  in  a  fanatical  way  that  would  brook  no  tolerance 
toward  those  who  in  the  slightest  degree  thought  dif- 
ferently from  himself  or  the  sect  he  represented. 

From  the  vision  of  hell  he  first  depicted,  he  dropped 
into  more  intimate  matters.  He  told  the  hearers  what 
they  might  expect  in  a  very  near  future. 

*'A  great  avalanche  of  tribulations  is  hanging  over 
the  world,''  he  thundered,  his  gaunt  flails  of  arms 
threshing  the  warm,  perfumed  air.  *'No  one  can  tell 
when  it  is  going  to  let  loose  its  overwhelming  force 
upon  this  world  and  do  its  deadly  work  of  devastation 
and  carnage.  It  is  only  resting  for  a  moment  to  give 
the  Lord's  people  a  chance  to  scale  the  heights  of  Pen- 
tecostal glory,  but  when  this  is  done,  the  deluge  will 
break,  and  what  will  take  place  then  is  sure  inde- 
scribable. 

*The  time  is  so  near  that  the  first  spatterlngs  are 
dropping  down.  Oh,  my  brothers  and  sisters,  it  sure 
does  behoove  the  people  of  God  to  strive  to  lay  hold  of 
their  zenith  of  glory.  It  is  always  true  that  where  sin 
abounds  God  gives  more  grace  to  His  people.  There 
was  plenty  of  grace  given  the  saints  of  old  when  they 
were  tortured  by  fire.  His  true  children  shall  not  be 
dismayed.  While  men's  hearts  are  failing  them  for 
fear  of  those  things  that  are  coming  on  the  earth,  the 


JUNE  GOLD  181 

saints  of  God  shall  be  covered  with  glory.  It  is  only  a 
matter  of  a  little  time  until  people  shall  be  compelled 
by  an  unseen  force  to  join  our  ranks — the  deepest 
spiritual  people  of  all  time.  Yea,  they  will  sure  be  glad 
to  drop  their  silly  notions  and  false  teachings  and  get 
under  the  protection  thrown  over  and  around  the  true 
blue  saints ! 

"The  anti-Christ  is  now  mustering  his  forces,  though 
he  has  not  yet  made  his  personal  appearance.  His 
agents  are  at  work.  But,  oh,  if  the  unsaved  could 
realize  what  great  love  Jesus  has  for  them,  they  would 
accept  him  before  it  is  too  late '' 

He  wiped  the  beads  of  perspiration,  that  had  gath- 
ered with  his  increasing  fervor,  from  his  high  bony 
forehead.  For  a  moment  his  arms  dropped  to  his  sides. 
Then,  with  the  instinct  that  belongs  only  to  the  truly 
dramatic  orator,  he  raised  one  hand  and  spoke  in  an 
intimate  tone  to  his  hearers — as  though  man  to  man. 

'^Sinners,"  he  pleaded,  conversationally,  *7^sus  is 
coming  soon.    Won't  it  be  awful  to  be  without  God  ?" 

For  a  moment  more  he  stood  in  that  attitude.  The 
hush  was  unbroken,  save  by  pent-up  breathing.  Not 
even  the  whisper  of  Steele  caused  a  tremor  in  the 
atmosphere  as  he  spoke  almost  inaudibly  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  mouth  to  Lora. 

"The  old  chap  is  'sure'  an  orator,"  he  complimented. 
"Even  makes  me  a  bit  goose-fleshy." 


182  JUNE  GOLD 

Through  that  silence,  the  voice  of  the  speaker 
boomed  out  with  suddenness.  His  discourse  had 
ended  as  abruptly  as  it  had  begun.  He  had  sensed  the 
dramatic  moment. 

*'Come  to  Jesus!"  he  exhorted,  with  a  strength  of 
lungs  that  shook  the  rafters  of  the  building.  "Now — 
now — is  the  accepted  time!  Turn  from  your  sin,  for 
ye  know  not  the  day  that  the  Son  of  man  cometh !" 

Motionless  as  a  statute  he  stood,  his  long  bony  arms 
outstretched  over  the  heads  of  his  emotional  audience. 
A  broken  sob;  a  long  tremulous  sigh;  a  slight  flutter- 
ing of  electrically  charged  garments  bespoke  the  first 
breaking  of  the  tension. 

Lora  Humphrey  gripped  Steele's  arm. 

"Sit  still,"  she  advised.  "Don't  be  surprised  at  what 
happens.    They're " 


F 


CHAPTER  XIII 

ROM  over  in  the  Amen  corner  on  the  woman's 
side  of  the  church  a  woman's  quavering  so- 
prano was  lifted  in  a  thin  thread  of  song. 


"Come  to  Jesus — come  to  Jesus — come  to  Jesus  just  now ! 


)> 


One  after  another  joined  in  as  the  waiHng  song 
was  taken  up  by  a  sister  or  brother  in  various  parts 
of  the  meeting:  house. 


^fc) 


"Just  now  He  will  save  you — come  to  Jesus  just  now !" 

Visiting  ministers  stood  up  and  looked  eagerly  about 
them,  ready  for  the  ministrations  they  knew  to  be  at 
hand.  A  thin  hag  of  a  woman  rose  from  her  seat 
and  swayed  backward  and  forward  as  she  covered 
her  face  with  her  hand. 

"I've  sinned!  I've  sinned!"  she  screamed.  "Have 
mercy!     I've  sinned " 

An  overseer  made  his  way  to  her  to  lead  her  to 
the  altar,  taking  her  from  the  ministrative  hands 
of  sisters  and  brothers  who  had  bounded  forward  to 
uphold  her.     Groans  and  sighs  from  all  parts  of  the 

183 


184  JUNE  GOLD 

church  attested  that  the  harvest  of  souls  was  ready 
for  garnering.  It  seemed  but  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye  before  the  place  was  in  a  turmoil.  Steele  saw  the 
drawn  white  faces  of  those  who  rose  to  totter  forward, 
aided  by  the  willing  hands  of  the  regenerate  who 
busied  themselves  in  leading  the  lost  sheep  to  the  altar 
before  the  box-like  pulpit — an  altar  hastily  improvised 
from  turned-down  chairs  vacated  by  the  visiting  min- 
isters and  overseers.  They  groveled  there,  their 
groans  of  anguish  rising  above  the  exhortations  of 
the  saved,  the  shouts  of  Glory!  Hallelujah!  as  one 
after  another  proclaimed  the  wanted  salvation.  Above 
the  din  could  be  heard  the  wails  of  the  calico-clad 
woman  who  had  started  the  hubbub. 

"Oh,  I  must  be  saved!  I've  sinned!  IVe  sinned!'* 
she  shrieked.  ''I  must  do  something  to  be  saved.  I 
must  wash  the  feet  of  the  saints!" 

From  somewhere  appeared  a  wobbly  sister  in 
Israel  bearing  a  tin  basin  of  water  which  she  placed 
before  the  altar.  In  all  gravity,  men  and  women  who 
had  never  ceased  their  singing,  allowed  their  shoes  and 
stockings  (Steele  could  see  that  there  were  not  many 
of  the  latter)  to  be  removed.  With  tears  streaming 
down  her  face,  the  seeker  of  salvation  took  up  her 
task  of  foot  washing.  But  when  she  came  to  the 
jninister,  his  feet  she  dried  with  her  drab  straggly  hair. 
Ont  after  another  took  up  the  ceremony. 


JUNE  GOLD  185 

'*It  is  the  foot- washing,'*  explained  Lora,  not  in  a 
whisper,  however,  for  it  could  not  have  been  heard. 
Steele  nodded,  his  face  a  study,  whether  to  laugh  or 
to  have  pity  on  these  woods  children. 

Still  in  his  bare  feet,  the  parson  clambered  to  his 
pulpit. 

"The  harvest  is  ripe,  my  brothers!"  he  boomed. 
"Have  faith!    Have  faith!" 

A  scream  from  an  hysterical  woman  in  the  center 
of  the  church  answered  his  challenge. 

"I  have  it!  I  have  it!"  she  howled.  Her  bony  arm 
shot  up  and  removed  the  hot  chimney  from  one  of 
the  side  lamps.  She  waved  it  above  her  head,  clutch- 
ing it  tightly.  "See!  See!  It  cannot  burn  me!  I 
have  faith!" 

One  after  another  followed  her  example.  Hot 
chimneys  waved  aloft,  amid  the  din  of  exhorters. 
Chimneyless  lights  flickered  smokily  and  licked  against 
the  woodwork  of  the  Vv^indow  jambs. 

"They  sure  have  faith  the  church  won't  burn  down," 
was  Steele's  low-toned  aside  to  his  companion  who 
only  answered  him  with  a  gentle  pressure  on  the  arm 
to  be  silent.  But  she  turned  her  head  aside  and  her 
face  was  sickly  white  as  she  saw  the  next  move 
of  the  barefooted  leader.  From  in  back  of  the 
pulpit  he  produced  a  writhing  bronze  copperhead 
w^hich  he  waved  aloft  over  his  head.     The  reptile's 


186  JUNE  GOLD 

shimmery  body  caught  all  the  glints  of  the  flickering 
lights  as  it  strove  to  get  its  venomous  head  in  a  posi- 
tion to  strike  at  its  enemy.  Howls,  shouts,  screams 
of  victory  and  fanatical  believing  greeted  the  perform- 
ance. Lora  Humphrey  hid  her  face  on  the  coat  sleeve 
of  Steele — an  unconscious  performance  on  her  part 
which  brought  a  thrill  of  delight  and  protective  im- 
pulse to  the  man — as  hands  reached  up  to  clutch  the 
snake  from  the  minister's  grasp,  to  be  passed  from 
hand  to  hand  amidst  a  babble  of  strange  language  that 
smote  the  ears  queerly. 

"Their  supreme  test  of  faith,"  Lora  muttered 
chokily,  " — and  do  you  hear  them?  It  has  given  them 
what  they  call  the  power  to  speak  in  unknown 
tongues.'' 

To  Steele's  ears,  the  sounds  were  not  unlike  what 
he  imagined  the  chattering  of  a  primitive  people  would 
have  been.  Higher  and  higher  it  rose,  a  veritable 
Babel  of  sound.  From  one  corner  of  the  church  a 
small  band  were  singing,  their  song  interspersed  with 
shouts : 

"It's  the  old  time  religion ■ 

It's  good  enough  for  me " 


Quite  unconscious  of  rivalry,  from  another  section 
came  a  slower  wailing: 

"Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea, 
But  that  Thy  blood  was  shed  for  me " 


JtJNE  GOLD  187 

A  sound  of  crashing  glass  rose  above  the  other 
sounds.  Another  and  another.  Steele  saw  the  lamp 
chimneys  hurled  onto  the  floor.  Those  already  bare- 
footed sprang  forward  to  dance  upon  them.  Other 
shoes  and  hose  came  off  to  be  thrown  feverishly  aside 
as  their  owners  joined  in  the  dance. 

''Glory!  Hallelujah!  It  can't  hurt  me!  I'm  saved! 
I'm  saved !" 

A  carpet  was  ripped  up,  and  its  tacks  hastily  strewn 
beneath  the  feet  of  the  dancers.  Steele  took  notice 
of  the  big  hulk  of  a  man  who  performed  the  service. 
His  look  was  one  of  surprise  as  he  turned  to  Lora. 

"Why,  isn't  that "  he  began. 

She  nodded,  and  there  was  a  scornful  tilt  to  her 
bright  head. 

"Yes,  that's  Hal — Hal  Everett,"  was  her  answer,  a 
contemptuous  note  in  her  voice.  "He's  been  playing 
with  the  Holinessers  for  a  week  or  more  now;  why, 
no  one  can  guess,  but  I  haven't  a  doubt  he  has  some 
motive.  He's  deep,  is  Hal.  Hasn't  seemed  even  to 
mind  the  jibes  of  the  other  coast  guardsmen  a  bit, 
they  say,  but  is  always  with  Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis 
— you  remember  I  told  you  all  about  him,  and  how 
he  never  practiced  his  religion  in  his  home,  don't  you? 
Uncle  Billy  claims  Hal  as  his  own  particular  convert." 

*'That  the  old  fellow  with  the  benevolent  shiny  face 
and  white  beard?'*     Steele  pointed  out  the  old  man 


188  JUNE  GOLD 

who  was  in  his  element,  exhorting,  praying,  shouting, 
dancing  in  his  bare  feet  as  though  he  were  a  score  or 
more  years  younger.  Again  the  girl  nodded,  and  a 
humorous  glint  came  to  her  eyes  as  she  answered. 

*'Yes,  that's  Uncle  Billy  Peter.  Perhaps  he's  happy 
over  getting  his  feet  washed.  I  shouldn't  guess  it  to 
be  a  very  frequent  occurrence.  And  see — over  there 
in  the  corner — the  girl  sitting  so  quietly — the  girl  in 
that  faded  old  blue  calico?  That's  his  daughter, 
Salvation — Sal,  they  call  her.  Her  father  makes  her 
come  here,  but  no  one  knows  better  than  I  what  she 
is  thinking  when  she  sees  her  father  so  full  of  this 

kind  of  religion "     The  girl's  voice  trailed  off  as 

to  her  mind  there  came  a  vision  of  a  half-starved  baby 
to  whom  the  religious  fanatic  they  were  watching 
denied  the  milk  so  necessary  to  the  little  one's  life. 

Instead  of  abating,  it  seemed  to  Steele  that  the  reli- 
gious fury  of  the  Holinessers  was  but  gaining  strength 
at  each  newest  excess.  Women,  unheeded  by  the 
dancing,  shouting  fanatics,  lay  here  and  there  on  floor 
or  benches  where  they  had  fallen  in  a  coma  from 
sheer  exhaustion.  Blood  stained  the  hands  and  faces 
and  garments  of  the  singing,  sweating  crowd,  blood 
from  broken  glass  and  from  sharp  knives  that  had 
passed  from  hand  to  hand,  but  as  far  as  any  physical 
pain  was  concerned,  there  seemed  to  be  none.  Voices 
were  raised  louder  and  louder  as  another  and  another, 


JUNE  GOLD  189 

led  from  what  sanity  they  had  hitherto  shown  were 
caught  in  the  emotional  malestrom,  tottered  up  the 
aisles  to  seek  the  salvation  that  the  minister  and  his 
visiting  cohorts  had  never  ceased  to  urge  upon  them. 
Steele  looked  about  him  with  distaste,  and  a  slight 
shudder  went  through  his  frame. 

"Come  on,"  he  told  Lora,  'let's  go.  I've  had 
enough  salvation  for  one  evening." 

The  girl  smiled  up  at  him  as  she  rose  to  follow. 
Neither  of  them  saw  the  glance  that  was  turned  in 
their  direction  as  Hal  Everett,  his  brow  clouded  to 
the  blackness  of  a  thunderstorm,  sav^^  them  for  the 
first  time.  Nor  did  they  see  him  quickly  make  his 
way  to  the  side  of  the  sweating  Uncle  Billy  Peter, 
grasp  his  arm  with  a  grip  of  steel  to  bring  him  out 
of  his  religious  frenzy  and  Vv-hisper  to  him.  With 
something  of  a  snarl,  the  old  man  turned  and  saw  the 
man  from  the  North v/ard  and  the  daughter  of  his 
enemy  as  they  stood  up  and  prepared  to  leave.  A 
wild  shout,  louder,  more  compelling  than  all  the  rest 
brought  a  sudden  check  to  the  groans  and  shouting. 

Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis  stood  like  an  avenger  in 
the  middle  of  the  crowd  of  worshipers,  his  arm  out- 
Stretched  toward  Steele  and  Lora,  one  gnarled  old 
finger  pointing  them  out.    One  word  he  thundered. 

"Jezebel!" 

If  there  had  been  silence  following  the  tension  of 


190  JUNE  GOLD 

the  parson's  exhortation,  it  was  now  a  thousand  times 
intensified.  A  hundred  tongues  clove  to  the  roofs  of 
mouths,  stopped  in  their  clatter  of  unknown  tongues. 
Dancers  stood  stock  still  and  stared.  But  the  small 
blue  eyes  of  Uncle  Billy  Peter  never  wavered  from 
the  two  to  whom  he  called  attention.  Then  solemnly 
he  began  to  speak. 

"The  Lord  has  delivered  them  into  our  hands,"  he 
shouted,  sonorously.  "They  have  been  sent  that  the 
people  of  the  Lord  might  make  of  them  an  example. 
Brothers  and  sisters,  you  may  know  nothing  of  it,  but 
before  you  stand  two  people  who  would  make  of  our 
little  corner  of  the  world  a  spot  despised  of  the  Lord ! 
Let  me  tell  you " 

And  as  Lora  and  Steele  stood,  transfixed,  horror 
stricken  at  the  venom  of  the  old  man,  he  poured  forth 
vituperative  accusation  that  could  but  bring  gasps  of 
amazement  from  their  lips.  In  the  background,  leer- 
ing cunningly,  they  could  see  Hal  Everett. 

The  girl  was  the  first  to  recover  speech.  She 
whirled  toward  her  accuser. 

"Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis,"  her  voice  rang  out, 
clear,  cuttingly,  "you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self !  How  dare  you !  You — to  call  yourself  a  Chris- 
tian !  You,  to  help  anyone  seek  the  way  to  God !  Oh, 
I  know  you — they  all  know  you,  if  they  would  come 
to  their  senses  enough  to  admit  it  I    You,  with  your 


JUNE  GOLD  191 

own  grandchild  dying  this  minute  because  you're  too 
stingy  to  give  him  food !  Oh,  OH !  You're  too  dread- 
ful, you  horrible  old  creature!"  She  was  trembling 
in  her  righteous  wrath.  She  did  not  even  feel  the 
tug  Steele  gave  her  sleeve,  urging  her  to  come  with 
him. 

But  the  old  man  stood  his  ground.  His  small  eyes 
flashed  back  glance  for  glance. 

"Jezebel !"  he  hurled  at  her  once  more.  "  *The 
dogs  shall  eat  Jezebel  by  the  walls  of  Jezreel.'  " 

*'Ugh!"  shivered  Steele.  "Fd  like  to  wring  his 
wretched  old  neck.  Will,  too — but  come,  let's  get  out 
of  this  now!'*  The  Northern  man  had  seen  mobs 
before.  He  did  not  like  the  temper  of  this  one  hang- 
ing on  the  words  of  the  gray-bearded  old  fanatic,  the 
glints  in  their  eyes  ominous.  One  never  could  tell 
what  mobs  would  do.  Again  he  urged  the  girl  to 
haste,  but  she  had  not  had  her  say. 

"Billy  Peter  Willis,"  she  cried,  her  voice  vibrant 
with  righteous  indignation.  "You'll  hear  from  this 
— you  and  your  whole  band  of  make-believe  religion- 
ists!   You're — you're,  why  you're  just  awful!" 

His  sharp  glance  also  took  in  the  waiting  throng 
that  hesitated  for  his  next  words. 

"Brothers !"  he  shouted.  "Sisters  of  the  Pentecostal 
Band — the  Lord  has  delivered  them  into  the  hands 
of  his  anointed — this  woman  of  scarlet  and  the  man 


192  JUNE  GOLD 

from  the  North'ard  who  would  bring  ruination  to 
our  homes,  then  come  here  to  make  a  mock  of  our 

religion Shall  thej  go  free — without  chastisement 

from  we-all,  His  chosen " 

Muttered  grumbles  answered  the  old  man's  out- 
burst. Slowly,  first  one,  then  another  edged  up  the 
aisle  toward  the  spot  where  Steele  was  urging  Lora 
from  her  seat.  With  cat-like  stealth,  a  mocking  smile 
on  his  lips,  the  light  of  revenge  in  his  eyes,  Hal  Ev- 
erett made  his  way  through  the  throng  toward  the 
door  through  which  they  must  pass. 

"No!  No!  No!"  came  the  answer,  then  a  roar  as 
the  crowd  surrounded  the  two  about  to  step  into  the 
aisle.    A  woman's  shrill  shriek  took  up  the  taunt. 

"Jezebel !" 

One  voice  after  another  joined  in — a  feminine 
chorus,  for  most  part,  it  became. 

"Jezebel!    Jezebel!    Jezebel!" 

From  the  first  outburst,  the  parson  had  stood  trans- 
fixed. It  was  evident  that  violence  had  had  no  part 
in  his  exhorting,  and  now  he  was  for  the  moment 
awed,  helpless  to  stem  what  his  own  oratory  had  been 
most  responsible  for.  He  leaped  toward  the  front  pew 
and  mounted  it  in  his  bare  bleeding  feet 

"Brethem!"  he  shouted.  "Remember  where  you 
are !    Sisters !" 

But  his  words  fell  on  unheeding  cars.    They  were 


JUNE  GOLD  193 

as  blood  hounds  who  had  scented  their  quarry.  A 
woman's  long  talon-Hke  claw  reached  out  and  plucked 
at  Lora's  riding  habit.  A  rip  of  hooks  announced 
the  tearing  of  the  garment.  It  was  as  the  blood  scent. 
Steele,  leaping  in  front  of  the  girl,  both  arms  out- 
stretched to  protect  her  from,  the  advancing  feminine 
mob,  frenzied  with  their  recent  religious  fever,  emo- 
tionally alive  to  the  fact  that  here  was  a  concrete  way 
in  which  they  could  show  their  religious  superiority, 
was  unable  to  check  them.  On  they  came.  For  the 
first  moment,  he  hesitated  to  use  his  strength  against 
women,  but  as  hand  after  hand  reached  for  the  girl 
at  his  side,  and  his  glance  showed  her  proud,  but 
frightened  eyes,  her  garments  from  vicious  onslaughts, 
beginning  to  hang  in  ribbons,  all  thought  of  chiv- 
alry save  toward  her  was  forgotten.  One  arm  reached 
round  her  waist  and  he  swung  her  onto  the  wooden 
bench  behind  him.  Then,  his  arms  working  like  flails, 
he  beat  back  the  waves  of  infuriated  females  bent  on 
destruction.  Above  the  melee  could  be  heard  the  voice 
of  Uncle  Billy  Peter  urging  them  on. 

*'The  Lord  is  on  the  side  of  right !"  he  bawled.  "He 
shall  rend  the  evil  limb  from  limb!" 

Lora  Humphrey,  standing  on  the  bench  beside  her 
defender,  was  not  inactive.  Her  lithe  arms  shot  out 
with  rhythmic  precision  as  one  assaulter  after  another 
measured   her   length    on   or   between   the   benches. 


194  JUNE  GOLD 

Steele  caught  sight  of  her  as  he  drove  his  right  into 
the  crowd. 

"Atta  girl !"  he  panted.  "Give  'em  the  hell  they're 
afraid  of !" 

But  numbers  v^ere  too  many  for  him.  The  man's 
feminine  opponents  did  not  fight  with  any  idea  of 
technique.  Teeth,  claws,  pins,  broken  glass — every- 
thing available  was  brought  to  bear  on  the  man  in 
efforts  to  get  to  the  girl  whom  so  many  had  called 
neighbor  and  loved,  but  whom  now  an  insane  fury 
bade  only  to  destroy.  A  moment  he  was  borne  back 
by  a  fresh  onslaught.  Then  he  felt  a  viciously  strong 
arm  clutch  him  about  the  waist,  and,  taken  unawares, 
he  was  pulled  from  his  vantage  point  between  the 
benches,  to  roll  over  and  over  on  the  floor  beneath 
kicking  feet  in  the  arms  of  his  assaulter.  He  felt  a 
hot  breath  on  his  cheek ;  saw  two  fiery  eyes  close,  then 
a  harsh  voice. 

"Well,  we'll  have  it  out,  me  bucko!"  It  was  the 
voice  of  Hal  Everett.  "Now  is  as  good  a  time  as 
any !" 

Steele  squirmed  from  the  stranglehold  to  land  a 
blow  full  in  the  sneering  face,  but  it  apparently  only 
slightly  dazed  the  hardy  coast  guardsman. 

"You — you "  he  began,  but  breath  was  precious. 

The  man  had  him  down  again.  Over  and  over  they 
rolled,  each  struggling  for  advantage. 


JUNE  GOLD  195 

But  as  Steele  had  gone  down,  another  champion  had 
come  to  the  aid  of  the  girl  defending  herself  from 
the  furious  women.  Kicking,  biting,  pulling  hair, 
using  a  superhuman  strength  to  force  her  way  through 
the  mob,  a  girl  in  a  faded  blue  calico  gown  had  reached 
Lora  Humphrey's  side  and  leapt  beside  her,  throwing 
an  arm  about  her  as  with  the  other  she  struck  out  with 
vicious  blows. 

*'0h,  Lory !  Lory  l"  she  sobbed.  "It's  me— I'll  not 
let  them  hurt  you,  Lory!"  Then  to  the  oncoming 
crowd  who  had  been  deterred  but  a  moment,  while 
many  of  them  were  fighting  among  themselves,  so 
insane  was  their  reasoning,  she  flung  out  furiously: 
"Don't  you  dast  touch  her — ^you  hear  me  ?  Don't  you 
dast!" 

A  raucous  gust  of  laughter  answered  her. 

"Another  one!"  jeered  a  fat  dame  whose  jelly-like 
sides  were  shaking  in  her  eagerness  to  get  near  her 
prey.  "The  Lord  sho'  has  delivered  'em  to  we-uns 
this  night !" 

But  it  was  another  hand  that  first  reached  the  two 
girls  clinging  together  on  the  wooden  bench.  Uncle 
Billy  Peter  came  through  the  struggling  mass  like  a 
rocket.  With  all  his  strength  he  tore  his  daughter's 
circling  arms  from  about  Lora  and  flung  her  over  two 
benches  into  the  aisle. 

"Hussy!"  he  roared.     "Would  you  interfere  with 


196  JUNE  GOLD 

the  people  of  the  Lord  in  the  performance  of  their 
duty?    Begone!    I'll 'tend  to  you!" 

It  was  the  same  hand  that  gave  the  final  rip  to  the 
skirt  of  Lora  Humphrey  that  tore  its  protection  from 
her  and  left  her  standing  there,  boyish  in  the  tight 
knickers  that  had  been  beneath  it,  her  coat  hanging 
in  shreds  from  torn  white  shoulders. 

So  quickly  had  the  assault  been  made,  so  dumb- 
founded had  been  the  Holiness  leaders  at  what  was 
taking  place,  that  they  had  not  gathered  their  wits 
quickly  enough  to  stop  it.  Now  they  were  trying, 
but  with  scant  success.  Even  their  exhortations,  their 
prayers  were  of  no  avail  in  face  of  the  humor  of  the 
feminine  mob  intent  on  a  cumulative  revenge,  born 
partly  of  religious  insanity,  partly  of  long  months  of 
subconscious  envy  of  the  girl  before  them.  But  they 
did  their  best  to  press  back  the  infuriated  women, 
so  that  the  girl  was  able  to  leap  to  a  more  protected 
spot.  Even  in  her  own  distress,  she  found  herself 
giving  a  quick  thought  to  what  was  happening  to 
Steele.  She  shut  her  eyes  and  a  quick  sob  came  to 
her  throat,  a  sob  that  ended  in  a  prayer,  as  she  saw 
the  man  she  knew  she  loved  struggling  on  the  church 
floor  with  the  other  man  who  had  aspired  to  be  her 
lover. 

What  she  had  not  seen  in  those  few  minutes,  though 
— what  no  one  in  all  the  crowd  saw — was  the  other 


JUNE  GOLD  197- 

girl  who  had  been  thrown  aside  by  her  own  father. 
Salvation  Willis  lay  for  a  moment,  half  stunned.  She 
tried  to  rise,  but  there  was  a  pain  in  her  right  shoulder 
that  sickened  her.  She  gritted  her  teeth  and  glanced 
toward  the  open  church  doors.  No  chance  of  escape 
there.  The  overflow  from  outside  had  filled  them  to 
overflowing  in  the  desire  to  see  all  that  could  be  seen. 
Slowly,  painfully,  she  half  raised  herself  to  peep  over 
the  top  of  a  bench.  She  groaned  as  she  realized  the 
uselessness  of  trying  to  go  back  to  the  aid  of  the  girl 
who  was  her  best  friend.  Then,  with  one  hand,  she 
crawled,  cat-like,  toward  the  open  window  nearest  her. 
As  painfully,  she  raised  herself  to  grasp  the  sill.  She 
glanced  about  her.  No  one  was  watching.  Gritting 
her  teeth  for  a  final  eflFort,  the  girl  In  the  faded  blue 
calico  lifted  herself  up  with  the  aid  of  her  injured 
arm,  and  dropped  out  of  sight  into  the  darkness  of  the 
night  outside. 

Lora  Humphrey  was  never  able  to  give  a  coherent 
account  of  the  ten  minutes  that  followed — minutes 
each  of  which  were  a  lifetime.  She  had  an  indistinct 
memory  of  a  few  men  (those  cooler  headed  ones,  led 
by  the  parson  and  visiting  clergy,  she  discovered 
later)  striving  with  shouts  and  prayer  and  main  force 
to  stem  the  tide  of  infuriated  women  who  sought  to 
get  at  her.  She  saw  them  try  to  separate  the  two  men 
fighting  on  the  floor — heard  the  shouts  of  the  com- 


198  JUNE  GOLD 

batants  as  they  pleaded  to  be  left  alone.  Then  there  was 
an  infuriated  roar  from  some  of  the  women  onlookers 
at  the  floor  battle;  a  sort  of  animal-like  cry  of  rage 
and  bafflement.  She  uncovered  her  eyes  to  look.  She 
was  just  in  time  to  see  Hal  Everett  stagger  against  a 
pew,  unbalanced  for  a  moment  at  an  unexpected  blow 
of  his  skilled  opponent.  Then,  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye  she  saw  Steele  plant  a  heavy  right-handed  blow 
on  the  bull  neck  of  the  coast  guardsman  who  fell 
heavily  across  a  seat.  He  did  not  rise.  He  could  not. 
Hal  Everett  was  asleep  for  some  time  to  come,  all 
thought  of  fight  gone  from  him  for  the  time  being. 
He  was  dreaming  of  the  angels  about  which  he  had 
been  listening. 

A  sudden  roar  from  angry  throats  came  from  out- 
side. It  reached  the  doorway.  Here  onlookers  hastily 
fell,  or  were  brushed  aside  by  the  new  element  that 
entered  the  fray.  Men  piled  through  the  doorway, 
rushed  the  unseeing  mob;  men  armed  with  shotguns, 
with  pitchforks,  hammers,  hastily  collected  weapons 
of  all  descriptions;  men  headed  by  a  wild-eyed,  froth- 
ing leader — Theophilus  Lopstrop  Humphrey. 

The  irate  father  was  not  the  first  to  reach  his  daugh- 
ter's side,  though.  All  unconscious  of  nearby  allies, 
Harrison  Steele  turned  from  the  man  he  had  downed, 
and  leapt  to  the  side  of  the  girl  who  was  striving  all 
she  could  to  force  back  the  women  who  were  de- 


JUNE  GOLD  199 

termined  to  reach  her.  It  was  a  Steele  few  would 
have  recognized,  though,  this  battered,  bleeding,  dusty- 
caricature  of  a  man  whose  once  immaculate  garments 
hung  on  him  in  shreds.  He  lifted  the  girl  in  his  arms 
and  sought  to  force  his  way  through  the  mob  aided 
by  those  who  had  tried  to  protect  her. 

"Courage,  little  girl!"  he  w^hispered.  'We've  got 
'em  going!  We'll  be  out  of  this  in  a  minute!" 

Such  prophecy  would  have  been  doubtful  of  consum- 
mation had  not  the  cohorts  of  Theophilus  Humphrey 
arrived  when  they  did.  At  the  very  sight  of  the 
determined  rescuers,  women  w4io  had  been  fighting 
animals  but  a  moment  before,  fell  back,  whimpering, 
crying,  pleading,  trying  to  pull  together  their  torn 
garments  and  (womanlike)  make  orderly  disarranged 
hair.  Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis  slunk  pulpit-ward  like 
a  scared  rabbit.  Theophilus  Humphrey  fixed  him  with 
his  cold  gray  eye. 

"You,  Billy  Peter  Willis!"  he  shouted  sternly. 
"Come  here  before  I  come  and  git  ye!  Would  set 
your  female  tigers  on  my  little  gal,  would  ye?  I've 
a  mind  to  blow  your  useless  brains  out  here  and  now, 
ye  old  hypocrite!"  He  raised  his  rifle  menacingly. 
The  white-bearded  old  man  cringed  near  the  pulpit. 

"Now,   Theo,"   he  cried.      "Ye   don't   know " 

Then  a  semblance  of  bravado  came  to  him,  and  he 
leered.     "What  ye  think  God  A'Mighty  goln'  to  do 


200  JUNE  GOLD 

to  ye,  harborin*  a  scarlet  woman — be  she  your  own 
daughter  ?'* 

Old  Theo's  rifle  that  had  been  lowered  by  one  of 
the  men  with  him  once  more  swung  to  his  shoulder. 

His  lips  were  set  in  a  grim  tight  line. 

"Say  them  words  agin,"  he  demanded,  "and " 

It  was  Lora  who  prevented  the  tragedy.  She  flew 
to  her  father's  side,  tugging  at  the  weapon. 

"Pap!  Oh,  Pap!"  she  cried,  her  voice  breaking 
hysterically,  the  only  sign  of  what  she  had  endured 
before  his  appearance.  "Don't — don't  do  it!  He 
isn't  worth  it!  And  I  can't  spare  you!"  The  arm 
swung  down  at  her  tugging.  "There's  a  so  much 
better  way!"  She  pulled  her  father's  head  down  to 
whisper.  Slowly,  as  though  unwillingly,  the  father's 
angry  lips  straightened  out,  till  a  grin  spread  over 
his  face.  But  he  never  took  his  eyes  from  those  of 
the  man  who  was  his  avowed  enemy,  the  man  whom 
all  the  countryside  knew  for  what  he  was.  He,  as 
well  as  the  girl,  was  unconscious  that  the  church  was 
fast  being  emptied,  that  where  there  had  but  a  few 
moments  before  been  a  mob,  were  only  torn  bits  of 
garments,  broken  glass  and  overturned  benches.  The 
avengers  were  dispersing. 

Theophilus  Lopstrop  Humphrey  grinned.  He  did 
not  notice  that  the  men  who  had  entered  the  church 
with  him  were  quietly  herding  the  now  exhausted 


JUNE  GOLD  201 

women  in  groups  through  the  doorways.  He  nodded, 
pleased. 

*'Yes,"  he  admitted,  "that  would  hurt  him  a  durned 
sight  more  than  a  bullet."  He  turned  to  the  gaping 
few  who  remained,  and  to  the  parson  who  mopped  his 
beaded  forehead  and  shook  his  head  in  bewilderment 
at  it  all.  "Neighbors/'  he  announced,  "ye-all  have 
seen  how  this  old  buzzard  tried  to  do  for  my  little 
gal.  Effen  it  hadn't  been  for  her,  I'd  a  shot  him 
straight  in  his  face  and  eyes.  As  for  that  other  one," 
and  he  turned  to  touch  the  unconscious  body  of  Hal 
Everett  with  a  contemptuous  cow-hide-clad  toe,  "wal, 
I  'low  as  how  our  friend  from  the  North'ard  has 
mommicked  him  up  a-plenty  already.  Now  it's  your 
turn."  He  turned  savagely  on  the  old  man  who  cringed 
behind  his  bench.  "These  here  neighbors,"  he  went 
on,  "are  witness  to  what  I've  got  to  say,  an'  what 
you're  a-goin'  to  do.  To-morrow  we'll  have  papers 
drawed  up,  legal-like.  Lory  'lows,  an'  I  'low  she's 
right,  that  it'll  hurt  you  hardest  to  be  hit  in  your 
pocketbook.  So  now,  let  me  tell  you  that  from  this 
night  on,  you're  goin'  to  give  them  grandchildren  of 
yours  all  they  want  to  cat  and  wear;  ye're  going  to 

feed  your  live  stock,  and "  and  he  lifted  his  finger 

to  point  Impressively,  "what's  most  of  all,  ye're  going 
to  give  that  gal  of  yours  an  eddication " 

Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis  gulped.     Surely  the  Lord 


202  JUNE  GOLD 

was  laying  a  heavy  hand  on  him.  Old  Humphrey 
went  on. 

"You  agree?" 

His  adversary  nodded.  For  once  Billy  Peter 
Willis  was  beyond  speech.  Humphrey  swept  his 
hand  to  include  all  his  hearers. 

"Ye  hear,  neighbors?"  he  inquired.  "Ye're  all 
witness?  Good!  And  let  me  tell  ye  that  gal  Salva- 
tion desarves  hit.  Effen  it  hadn't  been  for  her  poppin* 
up  out  of  the  darkness  with  a  busted  arm  and  tellin' 
me  and  these  here  friends  of  mine  that  was  a-passin* 
near  on  our  way  to  clear  out  a  nest  o'  moonshiners 
down  toward  the  Eastward,  no  tellin'  what  would  have 
happened " 

Steele  smiled  grimly.  So  that  was  how  it  had  hap- 
pened. He  had  been  wondering.  He  inwardly  gave 
his  meed  of  praise  to  the  grit  of  the  country  girl  whom 
he  had  last  seen  being  thrown  over  a  church  bench  by 
an  irate  father.     Lora  Humphrey  smiled  tenderly. 

"Darling  Sal !"  she  murmured,  appreciatively. 

From  outside  came  the  rumble  of  carts  and  patter 
of  horses'  feet  as  the  Holiness  congregation  took  their 
homeward  way.  They  spoke  in  hushed  whispers.  Oc- 
casionally a  sob  from  some  over-wrought  woman  tes- 
tified to  the  emotionalism  that  had  possessed  her,  but 
in  the  main  the  congregation  were  quietly,  hurriedly 
leaving.    Not  though,  without  the  knowledge  that  they 


JUNE  GOLD  203 

had  something  to  talk  about  for  many  a  moon  to  come. 
HoHness  meetings  had  never  been  noted  for  being 
subdued;  still  nothing  quite  equal  to  this  had  ever 
occurred  before.  From  down  the  road,  one  wagon- 
load,  more  brave  than  the  others,  quaveringly,  hesi- 
tatingly took  up  a  refrain,  but  it  had  lost  its  electric 
quality : 


It's  the  old-time  religion,  the  old-time  religion. 
The  old-time  religion — it's  good  enough  for  me- 


» 


**Do  you  think  you  can  ride  back  all  right?" 

Harrison  Steele  w^as  solicitous  as  Lora  Humphrey, 
leaning  on  her  father's  arm  stood  by  the  side  of  her 
tethered  horse.  She  laughed,  rather  a  ghost  of  the 
merry  laugh  she  had  flung  him  a  short  hour  before  in 
the  same  spot. 

''How  else  would  I  get  home — unless  you  and  pap 
want  to  make  a  basket  of  your  hands  and  carry  me? 
Why,  of  course,  I  can  ride — but  can  you  ride — that's 
more  to  the  point?  You  see,  I  didn't  get  particularly 
injured,  except  in  the  feelings  and  the  riding  habit, 

but  you "    There  was  pity  in  her  eyes  for  Steele 

as  she  extended  her  arms  to  her  father  who  lifted  her 
to  her  saddle. 

As  they  rode  homeward  through  the  star-spangled 
night,  Steele  spoke  ruminatively. 

"What,"  he  asked,  "was  that  text  we  heard  that 


204  JUNE  GOLD 

long  parson  giving  out  when  we  got  to  that  meeting 
house?    I  want  to  remember  it." 

Lora  shook  her  head. 

**1  can't  remember,"  she  regretted,  ''but  it  was  some- 
thing about  'howl.'  " 

She  could  not  see  the  humorous  quirk  to  the  big 
man's  lips  as  for  a  moment  he  was  silent. 

*'Off-hand,"  said  Harrison  Steele,  *'I  should  say; 
they  did." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

FOUR  days  later  the  first  of  June  had  arrived. 
Practically  all  evidence  of  the  scrimmage  which 
Harrison  Steele  had  had  with  Hal  Everett  had 
disappeared,  save  for  a  slight  blue  line  under  one  eye 
which  testified  to  the  ferocity  with  which  the  coast 
guardsman  had  sought  to  use  his  ugly  tactics  of  goug- 
ing. Healthy  and  strong  as  he  was,  Steele  usually  re- 
covered from  any  such  disability  in  record  time.  They 
had  always  said  at  the  university  that  Harry  Steele 
could  show  up  the  next  day,  without  court  plaster, 
after  the  most  strenuous  glove  battle,  when  his  oppo- 
nent more  likely  than  not  was  a  subject  for  hospital 
treatment.  So  it  was  in  this  case.  Hardened  as  he  was, 
Hal  Everett  had  not  recovered  as  had  Steele,  and  it 
had  not  softened  his  temper,  or  his  furious  desire  for 
revenge  on  the  man  from  New  York,  that  he  had  been 
the  victim  of  jibes  and  laughter  from  his  chosen  com- 
panions down  at  Swansboro  where  he  had  first  gone 
for  solace  after  his  captain  had  laid  him  off  for  a  few 
days  in  which  to  recuperate.  *'Being  licked"  was 
something  that  heretofore  had  had  no  place  in  the 
coast  guardsman's  lexicon.    And  in  his  then  state,  he 

205 


206  JUNE  GOLD 

was  not  in  a  position  to  resent  with  his  ready  fists  any- 
thing that  might  be  said  to  him.  The  lump  on  his  head 
where  it  had  come  in  contact  with  the  edge  of  the 
wooden  bench  in  the  church  was  still  painful,  and — 
what  was  worse — constantly  reminiscent  of  his  down- 
fall in  more  ways  than  one.  His  battered  countenance 
did  not  make  him  a  thing  of  beauty,  nor  even  a  subject 
for  condolence  among  the  fair  sex  who  hitherto  had 
always  looked  on  him  with  admiring  eyes.  Indeed,  he 
more  than  once  was  able  to  discern  distinct  titters  as 
he  passed  along  the  street,  and  this  had  in  no  wise  gone 
to  make  his  anger  against  Steele  any  the  less.  Hal 
Everett  was  a  fallen  hero.  And  it  did  not  set  well 
with  him.  Likely  it  would  be  some  time,  too,  before 
he  could  resume  his  coast  guard  duties,  and  be  alone  to 
nurse  his  vengeance  as  he  patrolled  the  wild  coast.  So, 
after  a  few  such  experiences  as  had  met  him  in  Swans- 
boro,  the  big  brown  man  had  sullenly  sulked  off  by 
himself.  No  one  knew  exactly  where  he  went  most  of 
the  time,  but  there  were  tales  that  said  he  could  be  seen 
at  nearly  any  hour  of  the  night,  furiously  stalking 
along  the  sand  dunes,  muttering  to  himself.  Some- 
times he  was  not  stalking,  either,  for  there  was  an 
illuminating  reel  to  his  stagger.  Venders  of  Monkey 
Rum  were  finding  in  Hal  Everett  a  steady  customer. 

Though  rumors  of  his  adversary's  condition  came  to 
him,  along  with  advice  to  beware  of  the  man  who  was 


JUNE  GOLD  207 

known  to  be  treacherous,  Harrison  Steele  was  not 
worrying.  His  set-to  with  Steele  he  considered  a 
closed  incident.  There  were  other  matters  of  more 
moment,  more  weighty,  to  claim  his  attention.  First, 
there  w^as  the  wonder  of  his  newly  recognized  love  for 
Lora  Humphrey.  To  a  man  like  Steele  who  had  so 
successfully  escaped  the  nets  of  the  feminine  for  all 
the  years  of  his  young  manhood,  only  to  find  himself 
at  last  a  helpless  captive  at  the  feet  of  a  girl  who,  un- 
doubtedly, never  even  imagined  it,  was  a  wonder  that 
needed  serious  contemplation.  He  wanted  so  to  tell 
her.  Whenever  he  saw  her,  the  words  that  welled  to 
his  lips  all  but  slipped  from  them.  But  there  was  a 
hesitancy.  He  could  not  understand  it.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  Harrison  Steele,  though  he  had  never 
considered  himself  conceited  in  his  belief  that  he  was 
good  enough  for  any  one  (that  was  self-respect,  he 
argued)  now  had  an  unaccountable  feeling  that  he  was 
unworthy.  And  it  was  the  happenings  of  the  last  few 
weeks  that  had  made  him  so.  He  was  engaged  in  an 
enterprise  that  could  not  bear  the  light  of  day.  While 
he  was,  he  felt  that  he  could  not,  must  not,  tell  this 
wonderful  girl  how  he  felt  about  her. 

Then  there  was  the  second  thing  to  claim  his  atten- 
tion. Just  a  week  or  so  before,  it  had  been  the  para- 
mount thing.  It  was  paramount  now  only  in  that  it 
kept  his  lips  closed  as  far  as  the  girl  was  concerned. 


208  JUNE  GOLD 

and  that  he  still  felt  his  duty  to  his  New  York  com- 
panions until  such  a  time  as  he  should  find  they  were 
safely  out  of  it.  He  was  worried  greatly  about  them. 
Two  days  before,  according  to  his  own  and  their  cal- 
culations, the  Falcon  should  have  put  back  into  Bogue 
Inlet  What  could  have  happened?  He  reviled  him- 
self for  having  allowed  them  to  take  the  fool  journey. 
All  the  booze  in  the  world  was  not  worth  it. 

There  was  not  much  sleep  for  Harrison  Steele  dur- 
ing the  days  that  followed  his  exciting  church-going 
experience.  It  was  in  his  head  that  his  companions 
from  New  York  would  try  to  make  the  island  in  the 
darkness,  if  possible.  Indeed,  this  had  been  the  idea 
when  the  scheme  of  the  bonfires  had  been  devised — so 
his  vigils  on  the  sand  dunes  were  late  ones  at  night,  and 
early — very  early — ones  in  the  morning.  Often  as 
early  as  three  o'clock  found  him  at  his  lookout,  and 
he  had  come  to  know  the  night  scenes  as  well  as  the 
day.  For  once  in  his  life,  he  knew  how  darkness 
melted  into  daylight.  He  watched  the  stars  and  the 
moon  go  out,  and  the  dawn  come  in.  Not  until  the 
first  rays  of  the  sun  rising  far  out  at  sea  tinged  the 
dark  blue  of  the  ocean  with  its  rays  of  purple  and  gold 
and  crimson  and  violet,  did  he  leave  his  post.  Old 
Henry  was  in  a  quandary.  He  went  about  muttering 
to  himself. 

"Dat  Marse  Harrison  s  jes'  de  sleepinest  man,"  he 


JUNE  GOLD  209 

complained  in  his  loneliness.  "Thought  he  wanted  to 
fish  for  drum  or  go  gittin'  marsh  hens,  and  hyar  he  is 
a-sleepin'  come  dinner  time." 

Suffice  it  to  explain  that  Steele  had  not  taken  Henry, 
any  more  than  any  one  else,  into  his  confidence  as  to 
his  nightly  prowling. 

It  was  on  a  misty  night  that  Harrison  Steele  slipped 
down  the  path  to  his  sand  dune.  Mist  was  rolling  in 
from  the  sea,  much  as  it  had  on  the  night  he  had  had 
his  first  glimpse  of  it  off  Bogue.  Reaching  the  top 
of  the  dune,  he  lighted  a  bit  of  the  kindling  under  one 
of  his  laid  bonfires  to  see  if  it  would  work.  It  went 
out  with  a  little  sizzling  sound. 

"Hmmph!"  muttered  Steele.  "Won't  be  much  of 
a  bonfire  if  they  make  it  to-night.  Doubt  if  they  could 
see  it  in  all  this  mist,  any  way.  Wonder  what's  hap- 
pened !" 

He  set  down  to  begin  his  long,  lonely  vigil.  As  al- 
ways, though,  it  was  not  so  much  of  the  fate  of  his 
friends  of  which  he  thought  as  of  the  lovely  girl  sleep- 
ing peacefully  over  in  her  home  in  the  grove  in  the 
hommocks  across  the  Sound.  The  first  faint  streaks  of 
a  battle  gray  dawn  were  lighting  the  mist  when  he 
aroused  himself.  Some  sixth  sense  told  him  that 
something  was  about  to  happen — something  was  hap- 
pening somewhere  out  there  in  the  black  expanse  of 
sea  before  him.    He  stood  up  to  listen.    At  first  only 


210  JUNE  GOLD 

the  booming  of  the  surf  on  the  sand  was  all  he  could 
hear.  Then,  faintly,  very  faintly,  he  caught  the  sounds 
of  the  explosions  of  an  engine.  That  must  be  the 
Falcon.  And  she  was  in  a  hurry.  Coming  danger- 
ously close  inshore,  too,  he  thought.  Surely  they  must 
have  warned  Captain  McMaster  of  the  danger  of  those 
submerged  sand  hills  off  the  coast — those  dangers 
worse  than  rocks  on  which  so  many  a  good  ship  and 
true  had  floundered  and  foundered  in  other  pirate 
days.  He  turned  to  his  bonfires.  There  was  no 
trouble  by  land.  He  was  sure  of  that.  His  vigil  had 
been  too  long  this  night.  His  hand  trembled  just  a  bit 
as  he  struck  a  match  to  light  a  bonfire.  It  would  not 
light.  Then  the  other.  With  another  sizzling  sound 
the  wet  tinder  smothered  out.  A  muttered  impreca- 
tion as  he  heard  tlie  sounds  at  sea  once  more,  above 
the  surf's  roar,  and  another  match  was  set  to  the  first 
bonfire.  As  it  blazed  weakly,  then  caught,  he  ran 
down  the  sand  hill  and  toward  the  beach.  He  could 
distinctly  hear  the  yacht's  sounds  now,  but  an  aug- 
mented lighting  behind  him  made  him  turn  to  see  that 
both  his  bonfires  were  blazing  briskly,  fanned  by  the 
breeze  that  had  sprung  up  with  the  coming  morning. 
*'Damn!"  he  imprecated.  ^'That'll  beach  'em  sure!" 
He  realized  that  with  the  lighting  of  the  second  fire 
he  had  given  the  signal  for  all  haste  ashore,  since  there 
was  trouble  by  sea.     One  fire  would  have  proclaimed 


JUNE  GOLD  211 

that  all  was  well  on  land — it  was  taken  for  granted 
that  they  could  tell  for  themselves  if  there  was  trouble 
at  sea.  *'Well,  it  can't  be  helped,"  he  mumured  philo- 
sophically. "Maybe  there  is  trouble  at  sea,  and  per- 
haps the  old  Falcon  can  stand  a  beaching,  after  all." 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  musing,  a  sudden  boom  came 
across  the  expanse  of  water  and  mist. 

"Damn !"  repeated  Steele.  "Revenue  cutter !  Now 
for  it !" 

He  heard  the  yacht's  engine  give  an  explosive  sput- 
ter, then  a  whir;  then  stop.  It  could  not  be  far  from 
shore,  but  in  the  mist  he  could  see  nothing.  But  he 
knew  that  the  yacht  had  stopped ;  beached  probably,  or 
caught  on  one  of  those  ocean  sand  hills.  He  w^on- 
dered  what  to  do,  and  as  he  wondered,  there  came  an- 
other roar  across  the  water,  farther  off  this  time,  as 
though  the  revenue  cutter  that  was  doubtless  after  the 
yacht  was  shooting  at  random.  Then,  as  he  stood 
there  helplessly,  as  on  a  previous  occasion,  the  mist 
lifted  for  a  moment  and  he  saw,  clearly  outlined 
against  the  black  of  the  water,  his  own  yacht;  its  prow 
set  high  in  the  air,  where  it  had  run  aground.  Men 
were  hurriedly  lowering  a  lifeboat.  He  saw  two  of 
them  drop  overboard  into  it,  then  something  in  heavy 
bags  was  hurriedly  lowered  to  them.  They  started  to 
pull  for  shore.  Far  out,  nearer  the  horizon,  he  saw 
the  smoke  from  a  cutter's  gun,  but  it  was  not  pointed 


2U  JUNE  GOLD 

toward  his  yacht.  Then,  as  suddenly  as  it  had  Hfted, 
the  mist  closed  down  once  more. 

Steele  ran  out  waist  deep  through  the  combers  to 
clutch  the  small  boat  that  was  hurriedly  making  its 
way  inshore.  The  muffled  voice  of  Card  well  came  to 
him. 

'Take  a  hand  there,  old  top !"  he  said.  "We'll  beat 
'em  yet !  Your  two  lights  saved  us — but  say,  how  in 
Tophet  did  you  make  out  Uncle  Sammie's  little  play- 
thing out  there  through  all  this  mist!  Just  in  time, 
too,  I'd  say — Cap  McMaster  was  for  making  the 
Inlet " 

There  was  no  time  for  Steele  to  explain  the  accident 
that  undoubtedly  was  responsible  for  the  cutter's  fail- 
ing to  pick  up  its  quarry.  He  heaved  mightily  on  the 
small  boat  with  its  heavy  load  as  the  others  leapt  into 
the  water  to  help  pull  it  inshore.  Billy  Meade,  as  little 
talkative  as  ever,  was,  however,  busy. 

''Brought  this  stuff  too  far  to  have  to  turn  it  over 
to  the  revenuers,"  he  announced.  "Don't  think  much 
of  vacationing  in  Federal  pen  anyhow.  Got  to  get  it 
ashore.    Bury  it — ^pirate  stuff — all  that  sort  of  thing." 

The  willing  hands  of  the  three  men  lifted  the  heavy 
filled  burlap  bags  from  the  small  boat  and  tossed  them 
on  the  beach. 

"Can't  leave  'em  here,"  advised  Cardwell.    "Got  to 


JUNE  GOLD  213 

bury  them,  as  Meade  says.  Got  to  hurry  after  the 
other  stuff,  too — Clem  Ashley'U  be  having  a  fit  to  get 
rid  of  it.  We  left  him  as  custodian,  and  I  will  say 
he  was  game,  even  if  he  did  face  having  that  revenue 
cutter  spot  him  while  he  was  in  sole  possession.  Here, 
Steele,  you  chase  back  there  in  those  sand  dunes  and 
find  a  place.  Dig !  Not  too  close  to  shore.  We'll  heave 
back  for  the  rest  before  this  mist  rises."  Cardwell  had 
been  head  of  the  expedition  for  so  long  that  he  did  not 
now  turn  any  authority  over  to  Steele,  or  acknowledge 
that  he  was  only  nominal  head.  The  habit  was  too 
strong.  But  Steele  did  not  notice.  Events  were  oc- 
curring so  rapidly,  that  his  one  thought  now  was  in 
obeying  the  coolest  head,  in  doing  what  he  suggested. 
He  turned  toward  the  sand  dunes,  as  the  small  boat 
headed  yachtward  through  the  mist. 

Twenty  minutes  later,  the  contraband  cargo  from 
Bermuda  had  all  been  removed  from  the  Falcon,  and 
was  safely  buried  under  a  flattened  heap  of  wet  sand 
behind  a  high  dune.  Cardwell  stood  on  the  shore  and 
stretched  wearily. 

"Whew!"  he  announced.  "I've  earned  mine  all 
right — could  use  one  right  now,  too,  if  it  wasn't  all  so 
safely  buried " 

Clem  Ashley  spoke  hesitantly,  as  though  he  might 
be  considered  a  naughty  school  boy. 


214  JUNE  GOLD 

"Left  a  couple  aboard,"  he  told  them.  "Rheuma- 
tism, epizootics;  all  that,  you  know.  In  case — too 
much  water,  you  know " 

"Well,  you're  not  quite  a  fool  after  all,"  was  Card- 
well's  comment.  "I'm  for  it!  Jump  in,  Steele,  we'll 
go  aboard  for  refreshments." 

To  their  astonishment,  Harrison  Steele  shook  his 
head  in  refusal. 

"No,  I  think  not,"  he  said  ruminatively,  but  Ashley 
broke  in  with  a  jeer. 

"Well,  wouldn't  that  freeze  you?"  he  asked  the 
universe  at  large,  then  to  his  friend:  "What's  the 
matter,  old  top?  Got  religion  while  we  were  sailing 
the  briny?" 

A  broad  grin,  enigmatical,  spread  across  the  face  of 
Steele. 

"Religion?"  he  queried.  "Well,  I'll  say  so!  Tell 
you  all  about  it  later.  Better  be  getting  back  to  the 
yacht,  though,  now — that  revenuer  will  be  calling  on 
you  soon,  or  I  miss  my  guess.  You'll  have  to  receive 
them  in  state — and  not  such  a  state  as  you're  in  now — 
Say,  though,"  and  he  seemed  to  think  of  something, 
as  his  friends  started  to  their  boat,  "there's  something 
else.  We'll  w^ant  to  find  that  stuff  again,  and  when  the 
marks  of  digging  are  swept  away,  we'll  have  a  hell 
of  a  time  in  this  sand  waste.  Nobody  knows  better 
than  I  by  now  how  much  every  bit  of  this  shore  is 


JUNE  GOLD  215 

alike.  No  wonder  those  old  pirates  lost  their  treasure. 
I've  no  mind  to  lose  ours,  after  all  this  trouble,  and 
narrow  escape.  I'll  have  to  chart  it."  He  looked 
about  him  as  he  spoke,  then  indicated  the  coast  guard 
clock  station  near  at  hand.  ^There's  the  only  thing 
along  this  whole  blasted  waste  that  is  immovable.  I'll 
take  my  markings  from  that."  He  pulled  something 
from  his  ulster  pocket.  *'Got  a  small  compass  here — 
found  good  use  for  it,  too,  when  I've  been  prowling 
around." 

Clem  Ashley  waved  to  him  from  his  seat  in  the 
stern  of  the  ship's  boat. 

*'See  you  later!"  he  called  mockingly,  as  the  strong 
arms  of  Grayson  Cardwell  shot  the  small  craft  through 
the  foam  of  surf.    *Tray  for  us  !'* 

Harrison  Steele  stood  watching  them  for  a  moment. 
The  light  of  morning  was  fast  lifting  the  mist. 
Plainly  he  could  see  the  Falcon  as  it  reared  itself  like 
a  frightened  steed  on  the  submerged  sand  reef.  Its 
position  was  not  in  the  least  dangerous,  he  knew — as 
he  also  was  sure  that  the  yacht  would  in  time  be  able 
to  float  itself,  when  its  prow  should  have  wedged  itself 
further  down  in  the  sand  and  helped  the  waters  to 
push  it  aside.  He  grinned  appreciatively,  too,  when 
he  saw  dimly  through  the  lifting  mist  that  the  revenue 
cutter  had  undoubtedly  spied  its  prey  and  was  bearing 
down  on  the  coast  of  Bogue  Island  at  a  pretty  clip. 


216  JUNE  GOLD 

Then  he  turned  with  his  compass  in  hand  toward  the 
coast  guard  pole  to  begin  his  calculations. 

A  half  hour  later,  once  more  from  his  vantage  point 
atop  the  sand  dune  beside  the  charred  remains  of  his 
bonfires,  Steele  saw  the  cutter  bear  to  near  the  yacht, 
and  heard  the  megaphoned  announcement  in  curt  tones 
that  the  officers  were  coming  aboard. 

Surprise  was  on  the  countenance  of  the  officer  in 
charge  of  the  boarding  party  as  he  was  met  at  the  rail 
by  Grayson  Cardwell,  immaculate  in  yachting  flannels, 
his  suave  manner  expressing  delight  at  the  visit.  Loll- 
ing in  deck  chairs  aft,  a  bit  uncomfortable  because  of 
the  yacht's  tilt,  but  urbanity  itself,  Clem  Ashley  and 
Billy  Meade  watched  the  blue  unifonned  men  clamber 
over  the  rail,  then  rose  and  came  forward  to  extend 
their  greetings.  It  was  more  than  evident  that  the 
officer  in  charge  was  nonplused  at  their  appearance 
and  the  manner  of  vessel  he  had  come  to  board.  It 
was  so  evidently  a  gentleman's  pleasure  yacht.  Card- 
well,  seeing  this  at  a  glance,  inwardly  congratulated 
himself  on  the  foresight  that  had  caused  him  to  insist 
that  the  entire  party  outfit  themselves  as  becoming 
members  of  a  yachting  party  while  they  were  at 
Bermuda. 

*'I  am  Lieutenant  Barrows,"  the  chief  officer  intro- 
duced himself,  "you  will  pardon  me,  I'm  sure,  but  I — 
er — we  thought  that  you " 


JUNE  GOLD  217 

Cardwell  smiled  condescendingly,  his  eyebrows 
lifted  a  trifle  as  he  repHed  with  a  nod.  *'I  understand. 
You — er — thought  we  were  engaged  in  what  I  beheve 
is  vulgarly  known  as  rum  running." 

The  officer  nodded  uncomfortably. 

"Of  course,  it  is  hard  for  us  to  distinguish,"  he 
said,  apologetically,  "we  can't  trust  any  one,  it  seems, 
and  when  you  refused  to  stand  to  back  there " 

"Our  mistake,"  magnanimously  offered  Cardwell, 
"but  we  could  not  imagine  you  meant  us!"  Surprise 
showed  in  his  very  manner.  "Something  went  wrong 
with  our  compass  last  night,  and  we  got  lost  in  the 
mist,  and " 

"We're  not  much  as  mariners  anyhow,  I  imagine," 
came  from  Billy  Meade,  with  his  slow  smile.  "We're 
guests,  you  might  say.  This  is  the  Falcon,  owner 
Harrison  Steele,  the  New  York  broker,  you  know. 
We  have  just  come  up  from  Biscayne  Bay,  headed  for 
Bogue  Inlet  to  pick  up  the  owner  who  is  here  at  Mr. 
Cardwell's  lodge,"  his  hand  indicated  his  friend  who 
bowed  at  the  introduction,  "for  a  bit  of  fishing  and 
end  season  shooting,  and " 

It  was  Clem  Ashley  who  took  up  the  explanation. 
His  little  face  twisted  humorously  as  he  spoke. 

"I'm  not  a  sea-faring  man,  agreed,"  he  commented^ 
'Tf  I  were  I'd  know  how  to  say  what  has  happened 
us — but  as  it  is  I'd  say  we've  come  something  of  a 


218  JUNE  GOLD 

cropper."  His  small  twinkling  eyes  swept  the  tilted 
deck. 

Lieutenant  Barrows  was  distinctly  uneasy. 

*1 — er — I'm  sure  you're  right,"  he  again  hesitated, 
"but — well,  the  facts  of  the  case  are  that  we've  orders 

to  search  you  for  contraband "    He  lifted  his  hand 

at  Cardwell's  shocked  face  to  still  the  indignant  pro- 
test he  imagined  about  to  come.  ''Merely  perfunc- 
tory," he  added,  still  more  apologetically,  *'but 
orders " 

Grayson  Cardwell  bowed  politely. 

*'By  all  means,"  he  said.  ''What  would  the  country 
be  without  men  who  obeyed  orders?" 

As  Lieutenant  Barrows  disappeared  through  the 
cabin  door,  Clem  Ashley  who  had  again  dropped  into 
his  wicker  deck  chair,  called  after  him  impudently: 
*'Hope  you  find  something!  If  you  do,  would  you 
save  a  small  nip  for  me — could  use  it !" 

Perfunctory  the  search  was.  As  Cardwell  after- 
ward explained,  had  he  known  that  he  and  Meade  and 
Ashley  w^ere  capable  of  such  good  teamwork,  they 
would  have  been  saved  an  early  morning  wetting,  for 
there  was  many  a  place  aboard  where  their  precious 
refreshments  could  have  been  safely  hidden  while  the 
men  who  had  brought  it  were  successfully  playing  the 
ancient  and  more  or  less  honorable  game  of  bluff. 


JUNE  GOLD  219 

Back  on  deck,  Lieutenant  Barrows  was  profuse  in 
apologies.  He  even  offered  aid  in  taking  the  Falcon 
off  the  sand  bar,  and  it  was  always  a  favorite  jest  of 
Ashley's  thereafter  that  there  is  no  such  aid  to  pro- 
ficient rum  runners  as  revenue  cutters,  if  one  only 
knows  how  to  treat  them.  Certainly,  the  Falcon 
easily  afloat  at  her  anchor  a  short  time  later,  was  a 
testimony  to  the  efficiency  of  the  cutter  crew. 

Lieutenant  Barrows  remained  aboard  to  see  that  all 
was  well  as  the  yacht  was  shifted  from  her  position  on 
the  sands.  He  was  making  his  adieus  at  the  rail  when 
Ashley  came  forward  with  his  impish  grin. 

*'Thanks  awf'lly,  old  top,"  he  thanked,  ''but — but 
I'm  constrained  by  your  kindness  to  tell  you  that  I've 
held  out  on  you " 

The  officer's  face  was  a  study.  He  wheeled 
around,  but  Ashley  stopped  him  with  an  uplifted  hand, 
much  as  the  lieutenant's  had  been  lifted,  as  he  turned 
and  walked  to  his  wicker  deck  chair.  From  under  it 
he  produced  two  bottles  of  reddish-brown  liquid  which 
he  plumped  down  on  the  small  wicker  table.  He 
reached  for  glasses,  and  looked  at  the  gaping  lieu- 
tenant.   ''Will  you  join  us?"  he  asked. 

Only  for  a  moment  the  officer  gaped.  Then  his 
face  broke  into  a  broad  grin,  and  an  anticipatory. 

"Well,  you  did  put  it  over,  didn't  you,"  he  began. 


220  JUNE   GOLD 

but  as  Ashley  calmly  poured  the  drinks  into  glasses, 
his  eyes  twinkled.  ^'Everything  in  moderation,  has 
always  been  my  theory,"  he  remarked. 

"Even  the  amount  of  liquor  a  vessel  may  safely 
carry?"  queried  Meade,  smiling  slowly. 

The  other  nodded  emphatically. 

"Even  the  amount  of  liquor  a  vessel  or  a  man  may 
carry,"  he  declared.  "And  as  I  was  saying,  far  be  it 
from  me  to  take  away  a  gentleman's  highball — in 
moderation " 

Ashley  passed  him  a  filled  glass,  then  gave  others 
to  his  friends.  They  lifted  them.  Lieutenant  Bar- 
rows spoke  solemnly. 

"Here's  how!"  he  toasted.  His  head  tilted  back  as 
the  liquor  disappeared  in  one  gulp.  "And  apologies," 
he  added,  as  he  handed  back  his  empty  glass. 

"Our  privilege,"  declared  Ashley.  "Don't  mention 
it!" 

Lieutenant  Barrows  dropped  over  the  rail  to  his 
waiting  small  boat.  The  three  watched  him  pull  away 
toward  the  revenue  cutter  waiting  in  the  last  of  the 
lifting  mist.  Billy  Meade  smiled  at  his  companions,  a 
smile  more  deliberate,  more  pregnant  with  meaning 
than  even  his  usual  ones. 

"  ^Everything  in  moderation,'  "  he  quoted.  "It 
seems  to  me,  doesn't  it  to  you,  that  our  first  sally  into 


JUNE  GOLD  221 

a  new  occupation  is  what  might  be  called  a  moderately 
successful  one?" 

From  the  sand  dune,  Harrison  Steele  watched  the 
revenue  cutter  pull  his  yacht  off  the  sand.  His  smile 
was  a  pleased  one  as  he  pictured  what  his  companions 
might  have  said,  how  they  had  received  the  defenders 
of  the  law  against  modern  piracy.  He  started  to 
clamber  down  to  make  his  way  toward  the  lodge 
where  he  knew  breakfast  was  waiting. 

"Well,  so  far,  so  good,"  he  murmured.  "But  it's  a 
bit  too  much  of  a  strain  for  a  regular  occupation." 

At  the  top  of  another  sand  hill  fifty  yards  away 
something  stirred,  but  he  did  not  see  it ;  his  back  was 
turned  to  it.  At  first  it  looked  like  shifting  sand. 
Then  it  took  form  as  it  rose  higher.  The  growing 
light  showed  a  man  in  a  slicker,  so  nearly  the  color  of 
the  sand  beneath  him  that  it  had  proven  a  perfect 
camouflage  in  the  uncertain  light.  A  first  slanting  ray 
of  the  newly  rising  sun  touched  the  man's  face.  Hal 
Everett's  still  battered  features,  further  bloated  from 
the  night's  debauchery  from  which  he  had  but  a  short 
time  before  wakened,  blinked  at  it.  He  rose  to  a  kneel- 
ing posture  to  stare  after  Steele's  retreating  figure. 
There  was  venom  in  his  bleared  glance  as  he  watched. 

"So  that's  your  lay,  my  fine  bird !"  he  snarled  under 
his  breath.    "Booze  runnin'  1    Must  a  hid  away  a  for- 


222  JUNE  GOLD 

tune  in  licker  down  In  that  sand.  But  I  *low  hit'll  be 
a  considerable  time  before  you-all  ever  set  eyes  on  it 
again.  If  ever !"  He  showed  his  teeth  evilly,  a  carica- 
ture of  a  grin  on  his  face,  bloated  and  marred, 
wearing  the  evidences  of  the  continued  debauch  of 
Monkey  Rum  which  he  had  consumed  during  the  time 
of  his  enforced  idleness.  "Hmmph!"  he  went  on,  as 
he  saw  Steele's  figure  disappear  through  the  lane  of 
pines  and  wild  oleanders,  "wonder  if  I'd  best  turn  him 
up,  or  keep  die  booze !  Hmmph !  Hit'd  keep  me  from 
workin'  some  time  to  come — ^keep  me  in  good  licker, 
too,  I  'low." 

He  stumbled  to  his  feet  and  half  tumbled  down  the 
sand  dune  toward  the  beach,  headed  for  the  coast- 
guard station  in  the  distance.  It  had  been  the  sound 
of  voices  in  the  mist  that  had  awakened  the  man  when 
Cardwell's  boat  had  come  ashore.  He  had  been  sleep- 
ing where  he  had  fallen  the  night  before,  too  overcome 
at  last  with  his  libations  to  go  further.  Then  the 
slicker  he  had  worn  had  proved  so  effectual  that, 
though  he  was  but  fifty  yards  or  so  away  from  Steele's 
own  sand  hill,  the  latter  had  not  seen  him.  So  Hal 
Everett,  through  the  haze  of  his  hang-over,  had  seen 
what  the  men  had  brought  ashore ;  seen  where  they  had 
hidden  it.    Some  canny  sense,  urged  on  by  his  hatred 


JUNE  GOLD  223 

of  Steele,  and  what  his  half-consciousness  told  him 
might  be  a  chance  for  further  revenge,  had  bidden  him 
remain  quiet.  So  he  had  watched  to  the  finish; 
watched  quietly  even  while  Steele  was  making  his  cal- 
culations with  the  compass  from  the  coast-guard  post. 
Now,  and  for  quite  a  time  before,  he  was  in  his  sober 
senses,  and  he  knew  what  to  do. 

It  was  an  easy  matter  for  him  to  find  where  what- 
ever the  burlap  bags  had  contained  were  hidden.  The 
marks  were  still  fresh.  From  there  he  made  his  way 
to  the  shore.  A  hard  twisting  wrench,  and  the  guard 
post  was  pulled  from  the  sand  in  which  it  was  im- 
bedded. Quickly  the  hole  was  filled;  quickly  a 
peculiarly  shaped  shell-rock  placed  to  mark  where  it 
had  once  been.  Then,  bearing  the  post  over  his 
shoulder,  crouching  as  near  the  beach  as  he  could,  in 
case  of  eyes  prying  from  the  yacht,  he  made  his  way 
down  the  beach. 

Fully  a  quarter  of  a  mile  further  down  the  beach,  at 
a  spot  so  identical  with  the  one  he  had  lately  quitted 
that  not  even  a  coast  guardsman  familiar  with  the 
place  could  have  told  the  difference,  he  stopped. 
There,  with  grunts  and  painful  evidence  that  his  in- 
juries were  not  yet  healed,  the  post  was  once  more  set 
in  place  where  it  stood  starkly,  the  one  lone  sentinel  in 


224  JUNE   GOLD 

the  waste  of  sandy  shore.    Hal  Everett  stood  back  and 
regarded  his  work. 

"There,  now,  dang  ye!"  he  exploded.  ''Hunt! 
When  ye' re  through  hit' 11  be  my  turn.  I  'low  there's 
no  hurry/' 


CHAPTER  XV 

WITH  so  much  liquid  refreshment  so  near  at 
hand,  and  after  such  an  exciting  time  to  get 
it  there,  it  followed  as  a  matter  of  course 
that  the  party  installed  at  the  lodge,  ostensibly  hunting 
and  fishing,  but  in  reality  awaiting  a  report  from  their 
aviator  that  the  hydroplane  was  once  more  all  right 
and  ready  to  resume  its  journey  northward  to  West- 
chester County,  should  become  a  bit  restless  under  an 
enforced  abstinence. 

Abstinence  had  been  counseled  by  Steele,  and  he 
had  been  upheld  by  Grayson  Cardwell. 

*'I  know  these  natives  better  than  you,*'  Cardwell 
had  told  them,  "and  they're  a  deep  lot.  I  feel  as  sure 
as  Steele  here  that  no  one  knows  anything  about  w^hat 
has  happened,  but  we  had  better  be  sure.  Some  of 
those  prowling  progers  from  down  Salterpath  way 
down  at  the  end  of  the  preserve  might  have  been 
abroad  and  seen  things,  and  we  can't  afford  to  take 
chances.  Better  wait  awhile  and  be  sure,  before  we 
dig  it  up." 

Strangely  enough,  it  was  for  quite  a  different  reason 
that  Steele  showed  apathy  toward  his  buried  treasure. 


£26  JUNE  GOLD 

He  could  not  understand  it  himself,  but  he  seemed 
to  have  lost  any  taste  he  ever  had  had  for  intoxicants 
of  any  kind.  Life  seemed  so  much  better  without 
them.  He  did  not  like  the  idea  even  in  his  thoughts 
of  associating  himself  with  Lora  Humphrey  with 
liquor  on  his  breath.  He  tried  again  and  again 
to  put  from  him  the  thought  of  what  she  would  think 
and  say  if  she  knew  what  had  brought  him  to  Bogue 
and  of  the  contraband  there  now  which  his  money 
had  purchased;  but  it  kept  recurring  to  him.  They 
were  not  pleasant  thoughts.  He  was  not  accustomed 
to  feeling  as  guilty,  as  uneasy,  about  any  of  his  actions 
as  he  was  now. 

So,  at  least  for  the  time  being,  he  was  content  to 
let  his  store  remain  where  it  was,  even  in  the  face  of 
Ashley's  repeated  grumblings. 

"Rum!  Rum!  Most  everywhere  and  not  a  drop 
to  drink!'*  complained  that  gay  individual  moodily. 
**Say,  what  do  you  chaps  think  I  took  a  chance  on 
Federal  prison  for  anyway?" 

But  his  grumblings  were  overruled  by  Cardwell 
and  Steele. 

^'You'll  have  parties  enough,"  Cardwell  peremp- 
torily told  him,  "if  you'll  have  a  little  patience.  Tell 
you  what — if  you're  a  good  little  boy  you  can  have 
one  the  night  Don  gets  here  with  his  air  wagon.  We 
can  get  it  in  a  jiffy,  eh,  Steele?     You've  that  little 


JUNE  GOLD  227 

map  all  right,  eh?'*  addressing  the  big  broker.  "Here, 
let's  see  it/'  Steele  obediently  passed  over  the  envel- 
ope on  the  back  of  which  he  had  drawn  his  crude 
map  when  taking  his  compass  bearings  from  the 
guard  post.  **Hmm,"  praised  Cardwell.  ^That's 
plain  enough — but  you  better  hang  on  to  it  pretty 
tight." 

"So  tight  that  nobody  else  can  get  that  way," 
grumbled  Ashley,  but  as  usual  he  was  ignored. 

Two  days  later  Don  Baldwin's  hydroplane  swooped 
gracefully  down  over  the  still  waters  of  Bogue  Inlet 
and  came  to  rest  as  lightly  on  the  inland  waters'  bosom. 
Ashley,  watching  it,  gave  a  whoop  of  delight. 

"Hurray !"  he  shouted.  "Also  'yo !  Ho !  Ho !  And 
a  bottle  of  soda  pop!" 

They  smiled  indulgently  at  him,  for,  unless  it  was 
Steele,  not  one  of  them  were  averse  to  the  promised 
celebration,  tired  out  as  they  were  with  a  long  day's 
hunting  and  fishing.  But  the  stars  were  beginning  to 
come  out,  supper  was  over  and  from  the  kitchen 
Henry  could  be  heard  chanting  his  good-night  song 
over  the  dishes  before  his  laying  down  time,  before 
the  quartet  sallied  out  to  dig  for  treasure — a  modern 
treasure,  very  modern,  it  is  true,  and  unaccustomed 
in  this  land  where  centuries-old  gold  and  jewels  were 
reputed  to  be  buried — but,  nonetheless,  treasure. 

At  the  guard  post  they  came  to  a  stop.    Steele  took 


228  JUNE  GOLD 

out  his  map  and  the  rather  round-about  course  to 
where  they  supposed  the  contraband  to  be  buried  was 
gone  over.  They  stopped  back  of  a  sand  dune — so 
much  resembling  that  where  the  bags  had  originally 
been  buried  that  no  one  could  have  told  the  difference. 

*'Dig  here!"  ordered  Steele,  as  he  set  the  example 
by  sticking  his  shovel  into  the  shifty  sand.  Even 
Ashley,  carefully  gotten  up  in  some  of  his  Bermuda 
purchased  raiment,  fell  too  with  a  will.  For  the  mo- 
ment, other  things  were  paramount  to  his  grooming. 

For  the  better  part  of  an  hour  they  dug.  Only 
sand  and  more  sand  rewarded  them.  Steele's  brows 
puckered  querulously,  as  again  and  again  he  consulted 
his  rude  map. 

*1  know  it's  the  right  place,"  he  repeated  for  the 
tenth  or  eleventh  time.     "I  can't  be  wrong." 

''Someone  has  blundered,"  bitterly  regretted  Ashley 
as  he  stood  up,  flung  his  shovel  from  him  and  sank 
into  the  sand  with  a  groan,  rubbing  his  aching  arms. 

For  the  fourth  time  they  returned  to  the  post  and 
carefully  went  over  the  ground,  step  by  step. 

"He's  right,  according  to  the  map,"  at  last  agreed 

Cardwell,   "but  I   don't  see "     He  stopped   and 

rather  suspiciously  eyed  Steele.  Ashley  roused  him- 
self at  the  look. 

"Oh,  but  I  say,  old  dear,"  he  protested  to  Steele, 


JUNE  GOLD  229 


«*. 


zre  you  having  us  on?  If  so,  enough,  I  should  say 
is  plenty.  I'm  thirsty."  He  sounded  like  a  small  boy 
teasing  for  cake. 

Steele  growled  at  him,  and  the  glance  he  bent  on 
the  other  held  something  of  blackness. 

"I  need  hardly  say,'*  he  remarked,  "that  this  thing 
is  as  unaccountable  to  me  as  to  you.  I  know  I  made 
the  map  alone,  but  I  am  equally  sure  that  here  is 
where  I  put  the  stuff.     What  object  could  I  possibly 

have "    He  grabbed  up  his  shovel.     ''Go  on  back, 

if  any  of  you  wish,  but  Fm  going  to  have  a  try  at 
tearing  up  this  whole  end  of  the  beach."  His  lips 
were  set  in  a  grim  line. 

But  at  the  end  of  two  hours  more,  when  they  were 
all  exhausted  to  the  point  of  dropping  into  the  holes 
they  had  dug,  they  had  found  no  sign  of  the  burlap 
bags.    Tempers,  too,  were  frazzled,  and  muscles  sore. 

Billy  Meade  straightened  up  suddenly,  leapt  from 
the  hole  in  which  he  had  been  digging  and  flung  his 
shovel  over  his  shoulder. 

"Dig  all  night  if  you  want  to,"  he  declared,  "but 
Fm  through.  All  the  booze  in  the  world  isn't  worth 
it.  And  if  you  ask  my  opinion,  I  would  say  that 
someone  has  beaten  us  to  it — someone  who  was  watch- 
ing when  it  was  put  here.  We're  damn  lucky  nothing 
worse  than  losing  it  has  happened  to  us " 


230  JUNE  GOLD 

Cardwell  and  Ashley,  the  latter  with  what  alacrity 
was  left  in  him,  followed  Meade's  example.  Steele 
was  the  last  to  give  up. 

"Oh,  of  course,  it's  all  right  with  you  chaps,'*  he 
complained  in  a  voice  most  unusual  with  his  compla- 
cent self,  ''but  I  think  I'd  like  to  locate  it.  You're 
only  losing  a  drink,  but  if  you'll  recall,  I  had  quite  a 
bit  tied  up  in  those  burlap  sacks." 

"And  I  had  quite  a  drink,"  agreed  Ashley,  "but  we 
can't  dig  all  night.     To-morrow's  another  day." 

So  to-morrow  was — and  the  next  and  the  one  fol- 
lowing it.  Hunting  parties  were  the  order  of  the  day 
among  Grayson  Cardwell's  guests  at  the  lodge  on 
Bogue  Island,  but  they  were  strange  hunting  parties. 
They  asked  no  guide,  and  investigation  would  have 
shown  that,  on  starting  out,  they  carried  shovels  and 
picks  instead  of  the  more  usual  rifles  or  fishing  tackle. 
All,  however,  to  no  avail.  Hal  Everett  had  done  well 
in  going  the  distance  he  did,  for  in  their  search  many 
hundreds  of  square  feet  felt  the  force  of  those  shovels 
and  picks.  It  began  to  look  hopeless.  They  were,  for 
the  most  part,  inclined  to  believe  what  Billy  Meade 
had  suggested  was  the  proper  solution,  but  hope  was 
not  yet  gone,  and  still  they  lingered.  But  they  could 
not  by  any  stretch  of  the  imagination  be  described  as 
a  happy  hunting  party.  Grouches  were  predominant; 
relations  becoming  partly  strained.     Still  the  hydro- 


JUNE  GOLD  231 

plane  danced  lightly  on  the  waters  of  Bogue  Sound 
and  waited  its  cargo. 

In  desperation  one  night  over  the  gloom  that  had 
settled  over  his  companions,  Steele  determined  to  es- 
cape to  a  happier  atmosphere  for  a  time.  He  had  kept 
away  from  the  hommocks  for  the  last  few  days,  but 
now  the  yearning  to  see  Lora  Humphrey  took  hold 
on  him  and  he  longed  to  talk  to  her,  to  listen  to  some 
one  talk  about  something  save  bottles  that  could  not 
be  found. 

Henry  poled  him  across  the  Sound  at  dusk.  He 
found  the  girl  swinging  in  her  hammock  on  the  slant- 
ing little  wooden  porch.  In  her  arms  she  held  a  baby 
and  she  stopped  her  crooning  to  the  child  long  enough 
to  welcome  Steele  and  to  indicate  that  he  should  make 
himself  at  home.  But  before  the  man  could  drop  into 
one  of  the  splint-seated  chairs  that  were  tipped  against 
the  wall,  another  girl  who  sat  on  the  other  end  of 
the  porch  swinging  her  bare  feet  from  her  perch  and 
cuddling  a  child  a  little  older  than  the  baby,  leapt  to 
her  feet  and  timidly  offered  the  courtesy  which  Lora's 
burden  had  kept  her  from  doing. 

'Thought  you  were  lost  in  the  sand  dunes,"  Lora 
laughed,  ''or  maybe  some  of  Hal  Everett's  bites  were 
beginning  to  take  effect  after  all.  I  must  say,  though, 
that  he  has  proven  one  thing  to  me.  I  always  thought 
before  that  his  bark  was  worse  than  his  bite."     She 


232  JUNE  GOLD 

stopped  to  wave  a  hand  at  the  girl  who  offered  the 
chair.  "This  is  my  very  dear  friend,  Salvation  Willis, 
Mr.  Steele,"  she  introduced,  as  the  other  girl  flushed 
and  sought  to  hide  her  bare  feet  beneath  totally  in- 
adequate skirts.  "You  have  not  had  the  chance  of 
meeting  her  before,"  she  added  quickly,  and,  Steele 
thought,  with  a  trace  of  chiding  in  her  voice,  "but  it 
is  to  Salvation  that  we  owe  the  fact  that  our  adver- 
saries did  not  follow  their  Biblical  teaching  and  tear 
us  limb  from  limb." 

Steele  gave  the  calicoed  hommocks  girl  his  deepest 
courtesy. 

"I  have  wanted  to  thank  Miss  Willis,"  he  deplored, 
"many  times — but  I  have  been  a  bit  uncertain  as  to 
wisdom  of  the  procedure.  It  seemed  that  I  had  done 
enough  damage  already  without  adding  other  vic- 
tims. But,"  and  he  turned  his  whole  attention  to  the 
daughter  of  Uncle  Billy  Peter  Willis  who  stood  awk- 
wardly, not  knowing  what  to  do  in  this  unexpected 
emergency,  "I  do  want  to  thank  you  for  what  you  did. 
I'm  glad  of  this  opportunity.  It  was — well,  it  was 
sporting  of  you — I  don't  know  of  another  girl  any- 
where, unless  it  should  be "  and  his  roving  eyes 

took  in  his  hostess,  "who  would  have  done  what  you 

did " 

Salvation  Willis  slithered  to  her  end  of  the  porch 
and  clasped  the  small  child  to  her  as  she  sunk  down. 


JUNE  GOLD  23a 

"Hit — ^hit  warn't  nuthin'/'  she  assured  him,  mod- 
estly. "I  jes'  couldn't  a-bear  to  see  *em  a-hurtin' 
Lor>^ " 


''Neither  could  I."  Steele  gave  the  assurance,  but 
his  eyes  sought  those  of  his  hostess  in  an  effort  to 
give  stronger  meaning  to  his  simple  words. 

Salvation  Willis  clambered  once  more  to  her  feet, 
leading  the  small  child  toward  Lora  Humphrey  and 
her  hammock.  She  reached  out  her  arms  to  her  for 
the  baby. 

"Gimme  the  'breast  baby,* "  she  said,  "we-all  must 
be  a-moseyin'  before  pap  comes  home." 

Lora  held  the  baby  a  bit  closer  to  her  for  a  moment. 

"You're  sure  they'll  be  all  right?"  she  asked. 
"Enough  to  eat  and  everything " 

A  slow  smile  spread  over  the  country  girl's  face. 

"Umph-humph,"  she  nodded.  "Pap's  got  religion 
— the  real  kind — for  a  spell  anyhow.  Even  the  beast 
critters  air  gittin*  enough  to  eat." 

"You  see,"  Lora  turned  to  Steele  triumphantly. 
"We're  missionaries!  What's  a  black  ey^  or  so  in  a 
good  cause  ?  Why,  Sal's  getting  ready  to  go  to  school 
to  the  Eastward,  and  Uncle  Billy  is  going  to  have  a 
woman  in  to  tend  the  babies  as  they  should  be.  And 
they're  such  fine  babies!"  She  gave  another  cuddle 
to  the  sleeping  bundle  she  held.  "Come  here.  Little 
Billy,"  she  called  to  the  larger  child  who  clung  to  the 


234  JUNE  GOLD 

skirts  of  his  aunt,  peeping  shyly  out  at  the  man  from 
the  Northward,  ''come  and  show  Mr.  Steele  what  you 
can  do!  Remember  that  little  piece  about  the  Metho- 
dists?" 

A  little  more  urging,  and  a  rather  scared,  but  vali- 
ant young  edition  of  Uncle  Billy  Peter  stood  on  the 
rickety  porch  and  twisted  his  pinafore  as  he  lipsed 
out  in  quavering  accents  the  first  verse  of  his  chef- 
d'criivre.  His  high  quavering  accents  cut  into  the 
growing  stillness  of  the  hommock  night: 


My  gran-dad's  a  preacher, 
And  he's  a  Methodist,  too- 


I  think  they're  the  nicest  folks  in  the  world,  don't  you?" 

Steele's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  girl  in  her  light  ham- 
mock whose  own  Madonna  eyes  were  contemplating 
the  sleeping  baby  she  held.  He  heard  the  high  quav- 
ering accents,  felt  that  a  reply  was  necessary.  Lora 
was  a  Methodist,  he  had  heard.  He  looked  up  at  the 
skinny  small  reciter. 

"Quite  right !    Quite  right  !'*  he  averred. 

Young  Billy  Peter  went  on  with  his  recital  of  his 
own  attempt  to  follow  the  teachings  to  shout  if  he 
were  happy,  and  the  dire  results  that  followed.  He 
rushed  his  words.  He  had  a  sort  of  stage  fright  at 
this   sort   of   high-class   audience.      Steele   only  half 


JUNE  GOLD  235 

heard  him,  save  at  the  end,  when  the  child  breathlessly 
finished : 

"But  I  guess  I  learned  a  lesson. 
That'll  suit  all  little  girls  and  boys, 
When  you  go  to  Methodist  meetin*, 
Be  sure  and  don't  make  any  noise.'* 

He  retired  hastily  behind  the  scant  skirts  of  his 
retiring  aunt.     Steele  applauded. 

"Quite  so!  Quite  so!"  he  repeated.  "Then  you 
know,  son,  that  Methodists  are  different  from  Holi- 
nessers — I've  only  learned  it  and  I'm  quite  a  bit  older 

than  you Here,"  and  his  hand  reached  down  into 

his  pocket  and  pulled  forth  a  big  silver  dollar  at  which 
the  boy's  eyes  grew  round.  There  was  more  of  Uncle 
Billy  Peter  Willis  in  him  than  he  could  realize  at  this 
tender  age  when  he  did  not,  or  could  not  account  for 
the  exhilaration  caused  by  the  sight  of  money. 
"Here,"  said  Steele,  "buy  yourself  a  lolly-pop  or  some- 
thing  " 

Lora  Humphrey  laughed  as  she  relinquished  the 
baby  she  held  to  Salvation  Willis. 

"Maybe  he'll  buy  a  farm,  but  he'd  have  to  get  a 
long  way  from  Bogue  to  know  what  a  lolly-pop 
meant." 

"We'll  be  a-moseyin',"  repeated  Salvation  Willis. 


236  JUNE  GOLD 


ft 


Got  to  git  the  babies*  supper,  and  pap's.  He's  more 
hongry  these  days  than  common." 

Lora  and  Steele  watched  the  Willis  girl  as  she  slith- 
ered down  the  path  between  the  shadowing  pines, 
with  one  baby  clinging  to  her  skirts,  another  in  her 
arms.  Though  slouching,  her  gait  was  a  pace-eating 
one,  and  she  was  soon  lost  in  the  shadows  of  the 
coming  night.     Steele  turned  to  the  girl. 

''What  a  wonderful  thing  for  the  people  of  this 
country  that  they  have  you!"  he  complimented  feel- 
ingly. "What  you  must  have  done — are  doing  for 
them !" 

In  the  girl's  answering  smile,  there  was  something 
of  a  far-away  wondering.  She  picked  up  the  light 
shawl  that  had  fallen  to  the  floor  and  draped  it 
around  her  organdie-clad  shoulders. 

"I  wonder!"  she  said  musingly.  "I  wonder  if  I  am 
doing  them  good — or  harm.  There  are  so  many  ways 
of  looking  at  things — and  one  way  to  happiness  lies 
along  the  road  of  content.  I  can't  say  exactly  that  I 
am  making  them  all  contented  with  their  lot — by  ex- 
ample, at  least.     But  I'm  trying " 

For  a  moment  more  she  was  silent,  as  her  eyes 
searched  out  the  moon  that  was  making  its  way  up 
the  horizon  to  cast  its  rays — silver  rays,  first  rays— • 
through  the  moss-hung  verdure.  Then  she  turned  to 
look  full  at  Steele. 


JUNE  GOLD  237 

"rm  trying,"  she  repeated,  "after  all,  I  can't  help 
it.  I'm  sorry  for  these  people,  just  as  I've  been  sorry 
for  a  lot  of  people  in  a  whole  lot  different  environ- 
ment. I'm  always  sorry  for  people  who  don't  under- 
stand. And  I'm  so  sorry  for  them  that  I  make  a  more 
or  less  fool  of  myself.  I'm  always  apologizing  for  all 
I  am  and  stand  for,  in  an  effort  to  make  them  feel 
contented  with  themselves.  It's  a  question  whether 
or  not  people  should  be  contented.  Why,  I've  been 
telling  these  people  down  here  what  all  their  blessings 
are,  and  giving  them  to  understand  that  I  envy  them 
— envy  even  their  ignorance — when  the  facts  of  the 
case  are  that  I'm  sorry — sorry  to  death  for  them.  But 
can  I  tell  them  ?  No !  I  never  have  been  able  to  talk 
to  people  whom  I  have  subconsciously  or  consciously 
known  to  be  my  mental  inferiors.  I  am  always  apolo- 
getic— telling  them  how  great  they  are — until  they 
believe  it,  and  feel  sorry  for  my  inferior  position. 

"Why,  I  remember,"  and  Steele  caught  the  humor- 
ous little  quirk  to  her  mouth,  "how  I  was  thrown  with 
a  lot  of  women  during  my  war  experiences  who  were, 
or  should  have  been,  my  mental  superiors.  I  always 
seemed  to  know,  somehow,  away  down  deep  inside 
me — you'll  understand,  won't  you,"  she  looked  anx- 
iously at  Steele,  who  nodded  his  comprehension,  "that 
I'm  not  so  entirely  conceited,  but  I  did  seem  to  feel 
that  they — well,  er — they  didn't  quite  understand.     I 


238  JUNE  GOLD 

could  afford  to  be  magnanimous,  but  in  being  so,  I^m 
afraid  I  haven't  always  held  my  dignity.  I  just  don't 
know  how  to  talk  to  people  who  are  not,  well,  not 
my  sort."  Steele  once  more  nodded  his  complete 
understanding,  but  he  was  gaining  an  insight  into  the 
nature  of  Lora  Humphrey  that  all  their  previous  ac- 
quaintance had  not  given  him.    Lora  laughed. 

**There  was  one  woman,"  she  remembered.  "She 
used  to  come  often  to  the  hospital  where  I  was  work- 
ing, doing  all  I  could  to  make  things  as  easy  as  they 
could  be  for  a  lot  of  soldiers  who  would  never  see 
again,  or  never  be  themselves  again.  I  was  a  graduate 
nurse,  but  all  of  us  had  forgotten  any  distinction  that 
might  carry  in  doing  whatever  we  were  asked.  This 
woman  came  again  and  again.  Poor  soul,  she  thought 
so  well  of  herself;  thought  she  was  doing  so  much. 
And  yet,  sometimes,  I  wonder  if  she  were  not  in  a 
little  degree  pandering  to  her  own  vanity.  She  was 
an  authoress  of  sorts,  and  she  spent  hours  reading  to 
the  soldiers — all  sorts  of  things  when  they  demanded 
it — but  mostly  from  her  own  novels  or  poems  when 
she  got  unprotesting  victims.  Often  she  took  occasion 
to  tell  me  how  great  she  was,  and  I  told  her  again 
and  again  how  wonderful  it  was  for  her  to  do  what 
she  was  doing.  One  day,  after  some  of  this  sort  of 
thing,  she  patted  me  on  the  arm.  'Oh,  my  dear,'  she 
said,  'it'll  all  come  to  you.     If  you'll  keep  on  trying 


JUNE  GOLD  239 

as  you  are,  some  day  you'll  do  just  as  much  for  these 
poor  chaps  as  I'm  doing/  " 

Steele's  roar  of  laughter  rung  out  on  the  quiet  air. 
This  sense  of  humor  in  the  girl  he  had  come  to  love 
came  to  him  as  the  pleasantest  of  surprises.  It  was 
the  one  thing  needful,  it  might  seem,  to  make  her 
entirely  perfect  in  his  eyes. 

'Women  are  queer  things,'*  he  commented,  in  the 
wisdom  of  his  small  experience,  ''they  so  usually  think 
well  of  themselves." 

**Most  always  too  well,"  Lora  agreed.  "I  can  think 
of  just  another  experience  to  prove  it.  There  was 
another  woman  whose  son  was  under  my  care.  She 
was  a  woman  of  means,  and  her  son  had  never  known 
what  it  was  to  have  his  slightest  wish  thwarted  before 
he  went  in  the  army.  Then  he  was  wounded.  He 
wanted  me  to  come  home  with  them  when  he  was  par- 
tially convalescent,  and  the  woman's  influence  was 
sufficient  to  have  this  whim  of  his  granted.  I  rather 
hesitated,  for  I  didn't  just  exactly  like  the  idea  of 
going  out  to  service,  as  you  might  call  it,  in  that  way. 
We  people  of  the  hammocks  may  not  be  all  that  some 
of  your  high  fliers  are  in  certain  sorts  of  culture,  but 
we  have  our  distinctions,  and  nursing  under  the  exi- 
gencies of  war  and  going  into  a  private  home  were 
different  things  to  me — with  this  peculiar  training  of 
mine.     Anyway,  I  think  I  stood  just  about  as  much 


240  JUNE  GOLD 

superiority  and  condescension  under  the  guise  of 
kindness  as  I  could.  I  couldn't  openly  rebel,  because 
of  that  peculiarity  of  mine  of  never  being  able  to  talk 
back  to  my  mental  inferiors.  But  one  day  it  was  too 
much.  The  kindness  that  almost  partook  of  the  qual- 
ities of  a  tip  stung  me  to  open  rebellion. 

*'  'Oh,  Mrs.  Tolliver,'  "  I  cried  in  ecstasy  at  what  she 
had  offered.  'You  are  entirely  too  good  to  me.  You 
almost  make  me  forget  that  I'm  a  hired  girl !'  " 

*What  did  she  say?  Hmmph!"  Lora  curled  her- 
self tighter  into  her  hammock  as  she  reminisced. 
"Nothing  much  except,  in  condescendingly  shocked 
tones:  *Oh,  my  dear!  You  really  mustn't  think  of 
yourself  that  way — we  never  do !'  " 

"Hmmph!"  repeated  Harrison  Steele  in  monosyl- 
labic reply,  as  he  mentally  pictured  the  girl  before  him 
as  the  mistress  of  Broad  Acres. 

The  shadows  had  closed  down  to  the  very  edges 
of  the  inlet  and  the  virgin  pines  and  cypresses  were 
mere  shadows  on  the  landscape.  They  started  up  to 
listen  as  a  halloo  in  the  distance  proclaimed  the  near 
approach  of  old  Theophilus  Humphrey,  home  from 
his  long  day's  work  in  his  fields  in  another  section  of 
the  hommocks.  Even  a  proger  must  work  in  the 
spring  time,  and  Theophilus  Humphrey  was  fast  be- 
coming a  man  of  worth,  with  the  windfall  of  real 


•V 


JUNE  GOLD  241 

money  that  had  been  coming  in  from  Grayson  Card- 
well  and  his  guests  from  the  Northward. 

Old  Theo's  greeting  was  a  hearty  one. 

"Goin*  to  stay  for  supper?"  he  asked,  and  showed 
his  real  disappointment  at  Steele's  refusal  and  explan- 
ation that  he  must  get  back  to  the  island  to  prepare 
for  the  next  day's  sport  of  goat  hunting.  This  was 
the  one  thing  that  the  New  York  party  had  not  yet 
tried,  but  though  disappointed  in  their  newest  search, 
they  had  decided  that  they  would  not  leave  the  island 
without  one  day's  try  at  the  sort  of  hunting  that  so 
many  men  of  their  acquaintance  crossed  the  continent 
to  get,  and  believed  could  only  be  found  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  But  it  had  only  taken  them  the  few  days 
of  their  residence  in  Bogue  Island  to  know  that  not 
only  could  goats,  as  wild  as  any  in  those  bigger  moun- 
tain fastnesses  be  found  roaming  at  will  on  the  sand 
dunes  wath  their  only  vegetation  the  sprig  or  two  of 
bear  grass  peeping  up  here  and  there,  but  that  deer 
there,  too  w^ere  plentiful,  and  wild  hogs  and  a  plen- 
itude of  smaller  mammals  that  would  make  a  sum- 
mer's dream  for  a  huntsman. 

Theo  Humphrey  reached  into  his  pocket  and  brought 
out  a  huge  plug  of  tobacco. 

''Have  a  chaw  before  ye  go?"  he  invited  with  a 
grin. 


242  JUNE  GOLD 

Lora  Humphrey's  'Tather!'*  was  sternly  remon- 
strative. 

"Aw,  no  harm,  Lory,"  he  explained,  as  he  winked 
hugely  at  their  guest  who  rose  to  depart.  "I  promised 
ye  I  wouldn't  buy  any  more  chawin'  tobacco — ^hit 
hain't  jes'  proper  toward  the  East'ard  where  she's 
been  schoolin',"  he  explained  to  Steele,  with  an  affec- 
tionate nod  toward  his  embarrassed  daughter.  **1 
promised,  an'  I  kept  my  word.  I  got  this  offen  a 
Holinesser " 

"But,  father,"  Lora's  voice  was  still  full  of  rebuke 
for  an  erring  child.  "They  may  have  their  faults,  but 
I  know  that  they  are  not  allowed  tobacco  in  any  form, 
and  wouldn't  buy  it " 

Her  father  bit  off  a  huge  chunk  of  the  pressed  black 
weed.  He  spat  voluminously  through  his  teeth  out 
into  the  sand  path. 

"Oh,  Isaiah  Fermer  didn't  buy  this  for  hisself,"  he 
explained  solemnly.  "He  boughten  it  for  his  horse — 
that  one  as  has  the  botts!" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"De  mawin'  light  am  breakin^ 
De  da'kness  disampears '* 

FROM  the  region  back  of  the  lodge  black 
Henry  was  greeting  the  new  day  with  his 
softly  crooned  melody  with  all  the  wailing  sym- 
phony that  is  the  gift  of  his  race.  A  subdued  rattle  of 
pots  and  pans  orchestraed  the  harmony,  and  the  life- 
giving  odor  of  newly  made  coffee  wafted  out  on  the 
breeze  and  into  the  open  window  where  Harrison 
Steele  and  Clem  Ashley  lay  sleeping  the  sleep  of  ex- 
haustion engendered  by  unwonted  exercise. 

Steele  stirred  sleepily  and  opened  his  eyes.  They 
were  the  words  of  the  negro's  hymn  that  first  im- 
pressed themselves  on  his  consciousness,  but  there  was 
something  more.  He  had  a  most  peculiar  subcon- 
scious feeling.  He  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  some- 
thing that  was  going  to  happen.  Something  quite 
nice.  He  had  not  felt  this  way  since  he  was  a  boy,  and 
had  wakened  much  in  the  same  way  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  a  long-planned  camping  trip,  his  first, 
was  about  to  materialize.  He  yawned  a  bit  less 
sleepily.     Now  what  could  be  going  to  happen  that 

243 


244  JUNE  GOLD 

would  give  him  this  feeling?  Maybe  they  were  going 
to  find  the  cache.  He  laughed  unhumorously.  That 
wouldn't  unduly  excite  him.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
had  come  to  care  little  whether  it  were  ever  found  or 
not.    If  it  were  not  for  Clem  and  Card  well  and  Billy 

Meade 

He  found  himself  humming  the  words  of  the  hymn 
the  negro  was  crooning.  Strange  that  he  should  re- 
member it  from  childhood.  It  had  been  many  a  day 
since  he  had  been  in  a  church,  but  with  the  hummed 
words,  there  came  back  to  him  the  memory  of  a  great 
vaulted  church,  subdued  lights,  his  own  rather  awe- 
struck feeling  as  he  sat  in  the  high-backed  pew  with 
his  mother  and  father;  of  how  he  had  to  climb  down 
by  the  aid  of  his  mother's  foot  cushion  when  they  stood 

up  to  sing. 

"The  sons  of  earth  are  waking, 
To  penitential  tears " 

Harrison  Steele  laughed  outright.  He  glanced  over 
at  Clem  Ashley  with  his  mouth  half  opened  as  he  slept 
his  deepest  in  the  dawn  of  the  new  morning. 

"Tears,  maybe,"  mused  Steele,  a  flicker  of  amuse- 
ment on  his  face,  ''but  hardly  penitential,  I  should  say. 
Wish  they  could  find  the  old  stuff  and  be  done  with 
it — getting  to  be  a  nuisance." 

One  more  luxurious  yawn,  and  the  big  man  tumbled 
out  of  bed  and  made  for  the  lodge  bath  room.    Good 


JUNE  GOLD  245 

thing  Cardwell  had  seen  to  having  a  bath,  he  thought 
as  he  stood  under  the  spray  and  felt  the  new  Hfe  tingle 
in  his  veins.  Probably  the  only  one  in  a  good  day's 
journey,  too.  But  all  through  his  morning  ablutions, 
there  remained  with  Steele  that  feeling  of  peculiar  ex- 
altation of  something  going  to  happen.  What  could  it 
be?  He  tried  to  laugh  it  off,  but  it  persisted,  still 
subconsciously. 

Henry  grinned  his  wide  grin  when  Steele  strolled 
out  back  of  the  lodge. 

"Mawnin',  Marse  Harrison,"  he  greeted.  ''See  yo- 
alFs  gittin'  to  know  when  layin'  down  time's  ovah. 
Nevah  could  seem  to  make  Marse  Cardwell  know  it, 
and  him  knowing  too,  that  the  fishes  bites  bes'  jes' 
about  day-break — and  the  wile  hawgs  is  a-comin'  out 
to  see  whut  they  kin  fin'  foh  breakfus,  an'  the  goats 
jes'  a-caperin'  ovah  the  sand  dunes  huntin'  foh  somfin 
besides  beah  grass " 

Steele  smiled  at  the  enthusiasm  of  the  negro  who 
flourished  his  skillet  as  he  might  have  a  fowling  piece 
as  he  described  the  game  of  the  island  "jes'  waitin'," 
as  he  had  expressed  it,  for  some  hunter  to  come  along 
and  bag  them. 
'  "Hunting  means  a  good  deal  in  your  life,  doesn't  it, 
Henry?"  Steele  asked  smilingly  as  he  indicated  that 
the  negro  might  bring  him  a  cup  of  coffee  and  his 
fruit  outside  the  lodge  where  he  could  watch  the  morn- 


246  JUNE  GOLD 

ing  growing  as  he  assuaged  his  also  growing  appetite. 
The  black  cook  put  a  plate  of  steaming  hot  biscuits 
with  fresh  yellow  butter  and  a  cup  of  coffee  on  a  tray 
which  he  set  down  beside  Steele  on  the  fallen  log  on 
which  he  had  perched  himself. 

"Yas,  sah,  Marse  Harrison,"  he  admitted,  "I  *low 
they  hain't  much  mo'  fun  in  the  worl'  than  huntin', 
lessen  hit  be  goin'  to  meetin' — Yas,  sah,  I  'low  I  done 
hunt  'bout  most  kin'  o'  critters  de  Lawd  made  in  dese 
parts " 

''Ever  hunt  for  treasure,  Henry  ?"  the  broker  asked 
abruptly.  Strangely  his  thoughts  were  running  in  this 
direction  this  morning,  probably  because  of  the  days  of 
futile  digging  he  himself  had  been  doing  in  search  of  a 
different  kind  of  treasure  than  that  of  which  he  spoke. 
The  negro's  eyes  rolled. 

"Lawsy  Massy,  not  me,  Marse  Harrison!"  he  de- 
nied with  a  vigorous  shake  of  his  woolly  head. 
'Tlenty  people  hereabouts  been  doin'  hit  a  long  time, 
but  we  black  folks — no,  sah !  Effen  dey's  any  gol'  hid 
in  de  sands,  hit's  debbil's  gol' — dem  lights  folkses 
keeps  a-seein',  dey's  de  debbil  goin'  about  wid  his  lan- 
tern to  see  his  gol'  hain't  teched.  No,  sah,  no  gol' 
huntin'  foh  dis  niggah — hard  'nough  to  keep  the 
witches  off  without  temptin'  de  ol'  debbil,  too " 

Steele  smiled  inwardly.  It  was  evident  that  they 
need  have  no  fear  for  their  well-cached  store  as  far  as 


JUNE  GOLD  247 

Henry  was  concerned.  He  wondered  what  the  man 
meant  about  witches.  Such  weird  notions  they  had 
down  here  in  this  primitive  country. 

'Witches  ?'*  he  asked,  with  lifted  brows. 

"Yas,  sah,  Marse  Harrison — didn't  we-all  know 
what  to  do,  dey  wouldn'  be  a  chicken  in  Bogue  or  the 
hammocks.'* 

'What  do  you  do?"  Steele  was  mildly  interested, 
for  his  thoughts  had  once  more  flown  to  the  girl  across 
the  bay  at  the  negro's  mention  of  the  word 
'^hammocks." 

"Come  yo-all  seen  de  ladders  agin  the  houses 
round-about?"  asked  the  negro.  Steele  nodded.  He 
had  often  seen  them  in  his  wanderings  in  the  last  few 
weeks,  and  had  idly  wondered  why  all  of  the  people 
seemed  so  indolent  that  they  never  seemed  to  get  their 
roofs  in  condition  so  that  the  ladders  might  be  re- 
moved. "Wall,'*  went  on  Henry,  "dey's  for  de 
witches.  Witches  in  de  hawks — hawks  kill  all  de 
chickens.  Den  de  ole  woman  in  de  fambly,  she  jes 
climb  up  de  ladder  an*  cross  her  fingers  on  de  south 
side  de  chimbley,  and  blooey — old  Mis'  Witch  she  go 
away  an'  de  hawks  kain't  kill  de  chickens."  The  negro 
nodded  solemnly  as  he  gave  his  bit  of  wisdom  for  the 
edification  of  the  Northern  man  who  seemed  to  him, 
in  his  way,  as  benighted  as  the  negro  himself  was  to 
Steele. 


248  JUNE  GOLD 

A  hail  from  the  doorway  notified  Steele  that  the 
rest  of  the  party  had  decided  to  begin  the  day's  sport 
Cardwell  was  calling  for  coffee. 

"See  you've  had  yours,  Steele,"  he  nodded.  "But 
you  might  come  up  off  your  perch  onto  the  porch  while 
we  plan  for  the  day.  Think  it'll  be  wild  hogs  to-day — 
Ashley's  so  sure  he  can  get  one,  he  won't  be  happy  till 
he  tries.  Of  course,  we'll  keep  our  eyes  open,  and  if 
we  see  any  signs  of  other  game,  ground  hogs  or  such, 
we  can  dig,  but  I'm  off  the  shovel  for  one  day  at  least." 

Even  the  day's  furious  sport  of  wild  hog  hunting 
did  not  entirely  erase  from  the  broker's  mind  the  idea 
he  had  had  on  waking — that  something  was  going  to 
happen.  Even  in  the  midst  of  the  chase,  he  found  him- 
self stopping  for  a  moment  to  wonder  what  it  could  be. 
But  when  the  evening  had  come,  and  with  it  tired 
muscles  and  a  desire  for  rest  and  much  food,  he  began 
to  feel  a  distinct  sense  of  disappointment.  Whatever 
it  had  been  that  he  had  been  waiting  for  so  subcon- 
sciously, had  not  materialized.  It  hardly  would  in  the 
gathering  shadows.  He  trudged  wearily  with  his  com- 
panions over  the  jungle  island,  his  tread  lightened  by 
the  soft  carpet  of  pine  needles  and  mossy  gray 
whiskers  that  had  fallen  from  the  trees.  The  smell  of 
roasting  game  assailed  the  huntsmen's  nostrils  and 
accelerated  their  gait  toward  the  lodge.  Henry  was  a 
treasure.     He  had  everything  ready. 


JUNE  GOLD  249 

"Now,  If  we  could  only  have  a  cocktail,"  complained 
Clem  Ashley,  who  had  had  enough  of  wild  hog  hunting 
for  some  time  after  his  near  encounter  with  one  of  the 
wild  beasts  whose  charge  would  have  resulted  dis- 
astrously save  for  the  prompt  attention  Cardwell, 
more  experienced,  had  given  the  animal — *'just  one — 
life  could  hold  nothing  dearer." 

Steele  felt  a  distinct  sense  of  annoyance. 

*'0h,  cut  it,  Clem,"  he  admonished.  ''Can't  your 
thoughts  rise  above  booze?"  But  Ashley  was  not 
silenced. 

"Booze  can't  rise  above  the  sand,"  he  bemoaned,  as 
he  limped  hurriedly  along.  ^ 

As  the  others  passed  into  the  lodge  intent  on  a 
shower  and  a  hurried  preparation  for  the  waiting  meal, 
Steele,  a  little  behind  the  others,  saw  Henry  from 
around  the  corner  of  the  porch,  signaling  mys- 
teriously. He  went  toward  him.  The  negro  slipped 
something  into  his  hand. 

"Dat  gal  of  Uncle  Billy  Peter's  she  fotch  dis  in  her 
skiff  awhile  ago,"  he  informed.  "Said  let  nobody  see 
hit  but  yo-all "  He  grinned  mysteriously,  enjoy- 
ing the  thought  of  being  in  on  some  secret. 

Steele  took  the  note,  but  even  before  he  opened  it, 
he  felt  a  thrill  pass  from  it  up  along  his  arm,  a  thrill 
that  could  come  from  nothing  else  than  the  knowledge 
of  who  had  sent  him  the  mysterious  missive.     Then 


250  JUNE  GOLD 

there  flowed  over  him  all  the  feeling  he  had  had 
through  the  day.  Something  was  going  to  happen.  It 
was  not  too  late.  Something  out  of  the  usual;  some- 
thing most  pleasant.  He  stepped  out  into  the  shelter 
of  a  grove  of  virgin  pines  to  scan  his  message  in 
seclusion. 

"Dear  Mr.  Steele,"  he  read; 

"I've  had  it  again — the  dream.  Half  waking  and  half 
sleeping  I've  seen  the  lights,  and  they  were  so  plain,  the  posi- 
tion in  the  sand  dunes  so  decided,  that  I  have  the  clearest 
kind  of  a  chart  in  my  head.  This  time  I  know  I  can  go 
straight  to  the  place  indicated — even  if  I  were  blindfolded, 
perhaps  even  better  if  I  were. 

"I  don't  know  how  silly  this  may  seem  to  you,  but  even 
in  spite  of  all  my  newer  training,  there  is  in  me  the  strong 
urge  to  see  this  through.  You  have  promised  not  to  laugh, 
and  I  am  depending  on  you  to  help  me  find  the  treasure 
as  yoti  also  promised. 

"I  know  I  am  breaking  every  rule  of  convention  in  what 

I  am  going  to  suggest,  and  did  the  Holinessers  know  of  it, 

they   might   have   cause   to   think    me   reprehensible,   but   I 

know   you'll    understand.      May    I    depend    on    you    to    slip 

away  aboMt  nine  o'clock  this  evening — the  moon  will  just  be 

rising — and  meet  me  at  the  clump  of  cypresses  just  above 

the  landing,   in   the   direction   of    Salterpath?     If   you   can 

have  some  little  light  with  you,  I'll  be  able  to  find  you  better 

than  you  can  find  me.    Then — for  the  treasure! 

"Hurriedly, 

"LoRA  Humphrey. 

"P.S.  Of  course,  you  know  you're  to  have  whichever  half 
of  it  you  choose." 


JUNE  GOLD  251 

Slipping  away  from  his  party  was  not  the  difficult 
thing  the  girl  might  have  imagined.  Long  before  the 
early  twilight  had  settled  down,  Ashley  was  already 
nodding  in  his  porch  chair,  and  Cardwell,  inside  the 
lodge  attempting  to  read,  was  ready  to  give  it  up  as 
a  bad  job  when  the  lines  of  his  magazine  were  running 
together.  Billy  Meade  laid  down  the  ukelele  on  which 
he  had  been  idly  strumming,  and  yawned. 

*Think  I'll  turn  in,"  he  remarked,  "To-morrow,  as 
our  young  friend  here  would  remark,  is  another  day. 
Comin',  Steele?" 

Steele  shook  his  head. 

"Think  I'll  have  a  little  stroll  in  the  twilight  while 
I  finish  my  cigar,"  he  answered,  as  he  turned  lazily 
away  from  his  companion.    Ashley  half  woke. 

"Haven't  you  strolled  enough  for  one  day?"  he 
wanted  to  know,  querulously.  "Think  you  can  find  a 
drink  by  yourself  ?  Well,  joy  be  with  you — I'm  going 
to  turn  in  with  Meade."  He  got  to  his  feet  totteringly, 
"Oy,  yoy,  my  back !"  he  groaned.  "Save  one  for  me 
if  you  find  any,"  was  his  farewell  rejoinder,  as  Steele 
started  down  the  steps  of  the  lodge  porch,  "I'm  going 
to  recuperate." 

Long  before  nine  o'clock,  Steele's  companions  were 
sleeping  the  sleep  that  came  as  the  reward  of  their 
day's  strenuous  hunting ;  sleeping  with  no  thought  that 
the  big  broker  had  not  returned  to  join  them.    Henry, 


252  JUNE  GOLD 

too,  had  completed  his  chores  for  the  night,  and  was 
audibly  reporting  from  his  cubby  hole  off  the  kitchen 
that  his  ^'laying  down  time''  had  come,  too. 

Armed  with  splinters  of  lightwood,  the  natives' 
favorite  means  for  lighting  themselves  in  the  darkened 
places  of  the  big  outdoors,  Steele  waited  the  approach 
of  Lora  Humphrey.  He  strained  his  ears  to  hear 
through  the  darkness  the  swish  of  the  pole  that  should 
herald  the  approach  of  the  girl's  skiff.  The  first  light 
through  the  trees  that  proclaimed  the  moon  ready  to 
rise  (as  she  had  predicted)  had  made  its  appearance 
when  he  heard  the  long  awaited  sound.  He  could  not 
see  her,  though,  but  as  he  heard  the  skiff  grate  lightly 
on  the  sand  not  far  from  him,  he  lighted  one  of  his 
pieces  of  light  wood.  He  started  to  go  forward  with 
its  flickering  glare. 

''Stay  where  you  are,"  he  heard  the  girl's  sibilant 
whisper.  'T\\  find  you !"  She  made  her  way  swiftly 
toward  him. 

The  flare  of  the  lightwood  lit  up  her  dancing  eyes, 
but  there  was  also  an  excitement  in  them  brought 
about  by  the  adventure  that  made  her  seem  to  Steele 
as  some  wood  fairy  of  the  night. 

''Do  you  think  I'm  crazy,  Mr.  Steele?"  she  asked, 
with  an  odd  laugh. 

"I  think  you're  delightful,"  the  man  could  not  re- 
strain the  admiration  in  his  tone,  "and  deserve  to  find 


JUNE  GOLD  253 

— everything  you  want.''  The  girl  laughed  lightly  at 
the  seriousness  of  his  tone,  and  the  meaning  which  she 
could  not  fail  to  catch. 

"We  must  hurry,"  she  admonished.  "It'll  be  quite  a 
little  jaunt,  in  spite  of  my  knowing  exactly  where 
we're  going.  Oh,  Mr.  Steele,"  she  added,  and  there 
was  real  warmth  in  her  tone  of  thanking,  "it's  so  good 
of  you  to  humor  me  so.  I  just  had  to  have  my  try  at 
treasure  hunting,  after  that  clear  dream,  and  I  couldn't 
go  alone.  Neither  could  I  tell  any  one  around  here. 
I'll  admit  I'm  not  above  not  wishing  to  be  laughed  at." 

"I'll  not  laugh,  I  promise  you,"  said  Steele  soberly, 
but  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  she  could  not  see.  "Only 
hope  you'll  find  it " 

"I  will,"  said  the  girl  firmly.  "Something  tells  me  I 
cannot  be  mistaken  and  that  the  secrets  of  the  pirates 
hereabouts  will  be  one  no  longer  after  to-night." 

"Have  you  thought  what  you're  going  to  do  with 
it?"  Steele's  query  was  a  bit  teasing,  but  the  girl's 
voice  was  sober  as  she  replied :  "Oh,  there's  so  much ! 
There's  always  so  much  to  do  in  the  world, — but  come, 
hurry,  we  haven't  time  for  talk  now !" 

But  her  words  gave  food  for  thought  to  the  man 
whose  wealth  had  never  done  anything  for  others,  un- 
less one  counted  the  good  times  he  had  afforded  his 
friends  who  might  have  been  far  better  oflf  without 
such  good  times. 


254  JUNE  GOLD 

With  his  Improvised  torch  lighting  the  way,  man 
and  girl  started  off  through  the  underbrush.  Steele 
noticed  that  Lora,  like  himself,  wore  heavy  snake- 
proof  boots,  but  instead  of  khaki  breeches  such  as  he 
had  donned,  she  wore  the  trim  knickers  of  her  riding 
habit — a  garment  usually  hidden,  in  deference  to  the 
prejudices  of  her  neighbors,  by  a  sedate  skirt.  The 
girl  led  the  way,  unerringly  guiding  the  two  through 
the  dense  growth  which  Steele,  admiring,  admitted  to 
himself  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  negotiate  alone. 
For  the  most  part  they  went  in  silence.  Not  until  they 
came  out  into  the  sandy  wastes  which  lay  stretching 
out  so  far  from  the  beach  with  their  hills  of  sand  dunes 
and  spears  of  bear  grass  outlined  like  little  lines  on  the 
smudged  surface  of  a  drawing-board,  did  she  speak. 

"Let  me  see,''  she  mused.  She  gazed  about  her  at 
the  monotonous  landscape  of  sand  that  was  just  begin- 
ning to  be  lighted  by  the  moon.  "I  think  I  know  which 
way  to  go,  but  I  believe  I  can  tell  better  if  I  shut  my 
eyes.    Now,  don't  say  a  word  for  a  minute." 

The  girl  shut  her  eyes,  and  as  she  stood  there  sway- 
ing in  the  moonlight,  it  seemed  to  Steele,  watching  her, 
that  there  was  something  trance-like  in  her  behavior. 
He  began  to  wonder  if  there  might  not  be  such  a  thing, 
after  all,  as  some  strange  sense  that  had  come  to  Lora 
Humphrey  bidding  her  to  dig  in  a  certain  place.  Out 
here  in  the  eerie  quiet  of  the  sands  and  the  moonlight. 


JUNE  GOLD  ^5 

with  only  the  distant  booming  of  the  surf,  things  did 
not  look  so  impossible  as  they  might  have,  viewed  in 
the  light  of  day.  Lora  opened  her  eyes,  and  stood  for 
a  moment,  half  dizzily. 

"I  know  now,"  she  said  simply.  She  darted  off 
ahead  of  him,  winding  her  way  between  the  sand 
dunes  leading  toward  the  beach.  Between  two  of  them 
she  hesitated  a  moment,  then  turned  to  go  behind  one 
of  them.  Something  in  their  formation  seemed 
strangely  familiar  to  Steele,  but  he  remembered  how 
all  that  waste  looked  so  much  alike  and  put  it  down  to 
the  impressions  he  had  gained  from  his  wanderings 
among  the  dunes.  Lora  stuck  the  light  shovel  she 
carried  into  the  sand. 

"We'll  dig  right  here,"  she  commanded,  but  as 
Steele  sought  to  take  the  implement  from  her,  she 
waved  him  aside.  '*You  use  vour  own  shovel,"  she 
told  him.  'There'll  be  v/ork  enough  for  two,  and  the 
time  is  short."  She  glanced  up  at  the  sky  apprecia- 
tively. The  moon's  rays  were  beginning  to  m.ake  the 
place  as  light  as  it  would  be  in  late  twilight.  "Fine !" 
she  commented.  "We  needn't  be  remarked  by  light- 
wood  torches.  That's  why  I  picked  out  a  good  moon- 
light night." 

For  a  long  time  they  dug  in  silence,  only  their 
labored  breathing  adding  its  sound  to  the  booming  of 
the  surf  som.e  distance  off.     Steele  smiled  somewhat 


^56  JUNE  GOLD 

grimly  as  he  thought  how  well  he  was  becoming  fitted 
for  a  trench  digger's  job  in  the  last  few  days,  and  of 
how  like  had  been  the  fevered  digging  of  himself  and 
his  companions — just  as  silently.  He  could  not  but 
hesitate  for  a  few  moments  though,  to  compare  the 
workmanlike  manner  in  which  the  girl  tackled  her  job 
as  compared  with  that  of  his  New  York  friends.  He 
was  put  to  it  to  keep  up  with  her,  but,  though  he  well 
knew  he  was  doing  it  only  because  the  girl  wished,  and 
without  any  thought  whatever  of  what  the  adventure 
might  bring  in  the  way  of  reward  (nothing,  he  was 
quite  assured),  he  did  not  intend  that  she  should  find 
him  lacking  in  enthusiasm.  He  dug  with  all  the  en- 
thusiasm of  one  who  had  a  more  rational  reason. 

Before  the  moon  was  an  hour  higher,  man  and  girl 
had  excavated  a  hole  above  the  top  of  which  only  her 
head  and  shoulders  could  be  seen  as  she  stood' up  to 
toss  aside  each  shovel  full  of  sand.  She  stopped 
wearily,  something  of  discouragement  in  her  eyes, 
lighted  by  the  moon's  rays,  as  she  looked  shame- 
facedly at  Steele. 

'*Go  on,"  she  said,  stubbornly,  "call  me  an  idiot — 
I  know  you  want  to — but  I'm  just  sure  there's  some- 
thing here " 

In  her  voice  was  a  half  sob  of  disappointment 
She  stuck  her  shovel  viciously  into  the  sand.     Some- 


JUNE   GOLD  257 

thing  like  the  tinkle  of  breaking  glass  was  heard  as 
the  shovel  struck  the  sand. 

'*0h!  Oh!  I've  struck  something!"  she  cried. 
"Oh,  Mr.  Steele " 

She  knelt  down  to  inspect  her  find.  The  sand  w^as 
getting  wet  at  the  spot  where  the  shovel  had  struck, 
and  gave  off  an  unmistakable  aroma.  The  girl  started 
to  her  feet  as  the  man  bent  over. 

"Oh!  Oh!"  she  repeated,  then  in  disgusted  accents, 
"Whisky!" 

"What  the "  exploded  Steele.    ''Say,  how'd  you 

know  where  I'd  put " 

Lora  Humphrey  drew  back  from  him  as  far  as  the 
confined  space  of  the  hole  in  which  they  stood  would 
permit. 

"Mr.  Steele,"  she  said  sternly.  "What  is  this? 
What  do  you  know  about  it  ?" 

For  once  in  his  life,  Steele  found  himself  unable  to 
explain  or  condone  any  action  of  his  own.  He  was 
tongue-tied,  stammering. 

"Why,  I — er — why,  Miss  Humphrey,  I  say  now, 
don't  think  too  hardly  of  me — I  was  going  to  ex- 
plain  "  he  began,  but  she  stopped  him. 

"Explain  that  you're  a  modern  day  pirate,"  she 
finished  scornfully,  "and  that  you're  using  our  little 
part  of  the  country  for  this "  and  her  boot  kicked 


258  JUNE  GOLD 

at  the  broken  glass  which  stuck  up  through  its  burlap 
sack  covering,  a  covering  that  so  plainly  covered  other 
bottles  like  the  broken  one. 

"I  say  now,"  he  began  again,  sparring  for  time, 
"I  can  tell  you — I've  meant  to  all  along,  except '* 

The  girl  started  to  clamber  out  of  the  hole  she  had 
helped  dig  in  her  search  for  treasure,  only  to  discover 
the  contraband  that  had  been  hidden  by  the  man  whom 
she  had  begun  to  know  meant  more  to  her  than  any 
other  in  the  world.  She  had  uncovered  his  unworthi- 
ness.  A  sob  stuck  in  her  throat,  but  she  choked  it 
back  proudly,  as  she  sought  a  foothold  in  the  shifting 
sand.  Steele  leapt  toward  her,  to  remonstrate,  or, 
through  gentlemanly  instinct,  to  help  her  out  of  her 
predicament,  half  buried  as  she  was  in  a  hole  in  the 
sand,  partially  imprisoned  with  a  man  whom  her  face 
told  him  she  loathed. 

Steele's  foot  caught  in  something  half  buried.  He 
stumbled,  and  as  he  did,  he  heard  a  crash  beneath  his 
feet  as  of  rotting  timbers  giving  way.  Then  a  flurry 
of  sand,  a  swift  flinging  out  of  arms,  clutching  at  the 
sand  where  no  clutch  could  hold,  a  scream  from  the 
girl,  a  melee  of  arms  and  legs  as  two  bodies  were 
catapulated  downward,  and  Steele  felt  the  earth  give 
way  beneath  his  feet.     Even  in  falling,  however,  he 


JUNE   GOLD  259 

sought  to  protect  the  girl  who  tumbled  after  him.  But 
he  was  too  late.  He  heard  her  head  bump  against  an 
obstacle — he  prayed  it  was  not  a  broken  bottle — and 
together  they  went  down !  Down !  It  flashed  through 
his  mind,  in  the  unaccountable  way  that  such  inconse- 
quential things  do  flash  through  one's  mind  in  crises, 
that  he  was  experiencing  much  of  the  same  sensations 
he  had  gone  through  when  he  and  his  friends  had  come 
crashing  down  into  Bogue  Sound  to  be  rescued  by  this 
girl  who  was  now  falling  with   him. 

Only  the  time  for  the  flicker  of  an  eyelash  had  ac- 
tually been  consumed  in  the  fall,  but  to  Steele,  whose 
consciousness  was  acute,  it  seemed  interminable. 
Where  were  they  falling  to?  Then,  as  suddenly  as 
their  tumble  had  started,  it  stopped.  Sand  continued 
for  a  moment  to  rain  in  upon  them,  but  Steele  knew 
that  they  would  go  no  further.  There  w^as  a  feeling  of 
solidness  beneath  him.  But  there  was  an  acute  pain 
in  his  ankle  as  his  weight  came  down  upon  it — not  so 
acute,  though,  as  the  pain  that  stabbed  his  heart  as  the 
girl  crumbled  down  beside  him  in  an  inert  bundle.  He 
made  a  grab  for  her. 

*Tora!    Lora!"  he  cried  wildly.     "Are  you  hurt?" 

No  answer  from  the  girl  who  lay  so  still  in  the  sand. 

Unmindful  of  the  pain  in  his  ankle  that  stabbed  with 


260  JUNE  GOLD 

knife  sharpness,  he  reached  over  and  picked  her  up  in 
his  arms.  Her  eyes  were  closed,  but  she  was  breath- 
ing. 

"Oh,  Lora!     Lora!     My  little  girl!"  he  sobbed, 
chokingly. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

HARRISON  STEELE  had  no  time  to  think  of 
where  he  was — or  what  he  had  fallen  into. 
His  whole  thought  was  for  the  girl.  Had  she 
been  badly  hurt?  One  glance  at  the  high  sides  of  the 
place  in  which  he  was  imprisoned  showed  him  the  use- 
lessness  of  attempting  to  get  out  of  the  hole,  twice  as 
deep  now  as  the  one  they  had  dug.  As  peculiar  as  his 
situation  was,  though,  the  hole  he  was  in  did  not 
interest  him.  His  whole  attention  was  bent  on  that 
still  face  of  the  girl  upturned  to  the  moonlight  that 
filtered  down  upon  them.  Frantically  he  chafed  her 
hands,  calling  on  her  in  words  of  endearment  to  speak 

to  him.     If  he  could  only  get  some  water His 

head  bent  over  the  girl's  heart  showed  it  beating 
regularly.  She  was  only  stunned  by  the  fall.  It 
flashed  into  his  head  that  there  must  have  been  some- 
thing besides  sand,  or  even  a  bottle  that  had  hit  her 
to  give  such  a  stunning  blow. 

If  he  could  only  get  some  water! 

Once  more  Harrison  Steele  looked  about  for  some 
means  to  climb  out  of  the  cave  he  and  Lora  Humphrey 
had  dug.    Once  more,  the  twitch  of  sharp  agony  in  his 

261 


262  JUNE   GOLD 

ankle  showed  him  how  impossible  such  a  thing  would 
be,  even  could  he  find  a  way.  His  hand,  groping  in  the 
sand,  laid  hold  of  the  comer  of  a  burlap  bag.  In  spite 
of  his  fright  for  the  girl  and  his  own  pain,  a  cynical 
grin  spread  over  his  features.  He  pulled  the  bag  to- 
ward him  and,  with  his  pocket  knife,  ripped  it  open. 
He  dragged  out  a  bottle  whose  contents  showed 
glistening  amber  in  the  moonlight.  Again  that 
pocket  knife  came  into  requisition,  and  Harrison 
Steele's  grin  showed  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth  as  he 
opened  the  corkscrew  in  one  side  of  the  implement. 
His  friends  had  so  often  laughed  at  him  for  carrying 
a  boy's  knife  with  so  many  attachments — "everything 
but  the  kitchen  stove,"  they  had  often  teased  him — but 
he  had  always  had  it  with  him,  a  souvenir  of  boyhood. 
Now  had  come  a  real  use  for  it. 

Lora  Humphrey  never  stirred  even  at  the  "pop"  of 
removing  the  cork  from  the  bottle.  The  aroma  of 
spirits  wafted  about  the  two.  Hastily  he  poured  some 
of  the  fiery  fluid  down  the  girl's  throat;  as  hastily  he 
poured  more  on  his  handkerchief  and  began  bathing 
her  temples  and  face  with  it.  He  gave  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief at  the  girl's  first  moan  and  her  unconscious  move- 
ment to  get  away  from  something  unpleasant. 

Her  eyes  opened.  She  looked  up  at  Steele  for  a 
moment  dazedly,  then 

''Whew!"  said  Lora  Humphrey.     She  sat  straight 


JUNE   GOLD  263 

up,  her  small  nose  crinkled  in  disgust.  "Whew !"  she 
repeated.    "Take  that  stuff  away!" 

Harrison  Steele  laughed  happily.  His  relief  at  find- 
ing that  Lora  was  all  right  was  more  than  he  could 
tell. 

"Feel  all  right  now?"  he  asked  her. 

The  girl  was  wiping  the  whisky  from  her  face. 
She  looked  about  her  wonderingly. 

"Yes,  I'm  all  right,"  she  told  him,  "but  what  hap- 
pened? Where  are  we?  I  remember  you  stumbling, 
then  we  started  to  fall — something  hit  me " 

"Haven't  had  time  to  explore  much  yet,"  was  the 
man's  rejoinder,  "but  I'd  hazard  a  guess  we've  tumbled 
into  some  sort  of  a  subterranean  cavern — probably 

dug  by  your  pirates  a  long  time  ago "    His  hand 

went  out  to  feel  as  far  as  he  could.  "See?"  he  asked, 
as  the  hand  came  away  from  the  side  of  the  little  cave 
with  a  broken  splinter  of  rotting  timber.  "Been 
shored  up  for  some  purpose  once,  and  we  stumbled 
into  it  when  we  dug " 

The  girl's  face  showed  her  disgust. 

"Oh,  I  remember,"  she  said,  as  the  face  was  turned 
from  him.  "We  didn't  find  treasure,  but  we  did 
find " 

"Please!  Please!"  Steele  begged,  as  she  struggled 
to  her  feet.  "I  tried  to  tell  you  before — you  w^ouldn't 
let  me — won't  you  listen  now  ?" 


264  JUNE  GOLD 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can  help  it — if  you  insist,"  she 
remarked  pointedly,  ''but  I  don't  see  what  you  can  say 
— what  real  explanation  there  can  be  for — piracy!" 
Her  lip  curled  in  disdain. 

She  could  not  see  the  flush  that  spread  over  the 
man's  face,  nor  could  she  see  the  firm,  stubborn  set  of 
his  jaw  as  he  answered. 

"Well,  I  will  take  advantage  of  you,  if  you  want  to 
put  it  that  way,  for  I'm  going  to  tell  you.  I've  wanted 
to  ever  since  the  second  day  I  saw  you." 

And  then,  while  the  girl  stood  with  turned  back, 
pretending  not  to  hear,  Harrison  Steele  told  her  how 
his  adventure  with  his  friends  had  started,  and  how 
it  had  reached  its  present  stage.  He  was  eager  as  he 
told  her  how  he  had  long  since  repented  of  his  folly, 
how  he  felt  about  it,  and  would  give  so  much  to  undo 
what  had  been  done.  In  spite  of  herself,  the  girl 
softened  as  she  listened.  There  was  no  mistaking  the 
reasons  Harrison  Steele  gave  for  his  change  of  heart. 
It  was  a  strange  love-making — In  a  stranger  place — 
but  love,  as  the  world  knows,  knows  neither  time  or 
place  or  reason.  It  was  something  so  new  to  Steele, 
too,  that  the  girl's  heart  was  swept  with  a  kind  of 
maternal  pity,  such  as  she  might  have  felt  for  a  small 
boy  caught  stealing  sugar. 

He  finished  lamely. 


JUNE  GOLD  265 

"And  it  was  because  of  what  I  had  done — and  what 
you  might  think  of  it — that  I  haven't  told  you  any  of 
these  things  before — of  the  way  I  felt,  and  all  that, 
you  know — I  knew  I  wasn't  worthy  of  you.  But  if  I 
can  get  rid  of  this  stuff  some  way,  dear — Lora — could 
you — er  would  you " 

She  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  arm. 

"We  can  talk  about  that  later,  can't  we  ?"  she  asked. 
**Seems  to  me  the  thing  to  be  done  now  is  to  get  out 
of  this  place 

"How?"  asked  Steele.  "We  can  still  yell  a  bit,  I 
fancy." 

Lora  peered  up  at  the  top  of  the  hole  high  above 
them. 

"Couldn't  you  help  me  get  to  your  shoulders?  I 
think  I  could  climb  out — then  I  could  get  a  rope  or 
something  for  you." 

*'You  might,  except — er — there's  a  little  thing  I  for- 
got to  mention."  He  ruefully  indicated. his  foot  which 
was  stuck  straight  out  before  him  in  its  heavy  boot,  a 
foot  beginning  to  pain  more  than  he  liked  to  tell.  "A 
bit  afraid  I've  come  a  cropper  with  that." 

The  girl  whirled  about.  Lightning-quick  the  ex- 
pression of  her  face  changed.  Forgotten  was  any  idea 
of  escape  from  her  predicament.  All  the  maternal 
instinct,  all  the  trained  nurse's,  in  her  rushed  to  the 
fore. 


266  JUNE  GOLD 

"Oh,  you  poor  thing!"  she  cried.  "And  you  never 
told  me!    And  I " 

She  dropped  to  her  knees  In  the  sand  beside  the  in- 
jured foot.  In  spite  of  the  man's  protests  that  he 
could  do  for  himself,  she  quickly  and  deftly  removed 
the  heavy  snake-proof  boot,  and  a  quick  gasp  came  to 
her  throat  as  she  saw  the  ankle  that  puffed  out  before 
her  eyes  as  she  removed  the  protecting  sock.  Steele 
was  glad  that  she  could  not  see  his  wince  of  pain,  but 
he  admitted  to  himself  that  it  was  a  strange  piece  of 
psychology  that  made  that  pain  less  under  the  minis- 
trations of  the  girl  he  loved.  Talking  softly,  as  she 
might  to  an  injured  child,  Lora  Humphrey  tore  up 
handkerchiefs  into  bandages.  She  looked  up  at  Steele 
with  a  crinkle  of  amusement  in  her  eyes. 

"You  might  hand  me  that  bottle,"  she  laughed,  "it 
seems  to  be  our  apothecary  shop." 

For  the  second  time  since  its  loss  and  dramatic  dis- 
covery, Steele's  cached  liquid  treasure  performed 
offices  that  had  been  far  from  the  minds  of  those  who 
had  brought  the  liquor  from  the  Bermudas.  As  Lora 
bound  up  the  injured  ankle  with  professional  skill, 
Steele  found  that  the  pain  was  already  lessened.  He 
laughed  joyously. 

"Better  use  for  it  outside  than  in,  after  all,"  he 
offered. 

"I'm  one  who  believes  it's  better  never  *in,*  "  was  the 


JUNE  GOLD  267 

girl's  rejoinder.  "There's  always  something  better  to 
take  its  place  for  any  use."  She  gave  the  bandage  a 
final  pat.  "There,"  she  said,  "that'll  do  until  we  can 
get  you  out." 

"How?"  once  more  queried  Steele.  "No  one  will 
miss  me,  I'm  sure — not  before  daylight,  at  any  rate, 
and  you — hadn't  we  better  yell?" 

Lora's  head  shook  a  vigorous  negative.  "No,"  she 
said  resignedly.  "There's  nothing  to  hear  but  the 
ocean  and  the  sand,  unless  a  coast  guardsman  should 
happen  along — there  must  be  a  post  somewhere  near, 
and "    She  stopped  hesitatingly. 

Steele  nodded. 

"I  understand,"  he  said.  "It  would  be  just  as  well 
if  we  should  pick  our  coast  guardsmen  when  we  want 
to  be  rescued.  As  for  me,"  he  leaned  back  In  the  sand, 
"I'm  satisfied."  His  eyes  sought  the  girl's  own,  as  he 
reached  out  for  her  hand.    She  drew  back. 

"Not  now — not  now,"  she  said.    "Later "    But 

even  as  she  spoke,  and  took  one  backward  step  in  the 
confined  space  of  their  small  cave,  she  stumbled  and 
caught  herself  by  a  hand  pressed  against  the  loose 
sand.    It  came  tumbling  down  In  another  shower. 

"Careful,"  admonished  Steele.  "We're  not  ready  to 
be  buried  yet — we're  just  beginning  to  live.  I'll  be 
good." 

"Seems  like  my  night  to   stumble,"   ruefully   re- 


268  JUNE  GOLD 

marked  the  girl.  "Wonder  what  that  was  this  time !" 
Her  hands  were  exploring  the  sand  where  her  foot 
had  felt  something.  Suddenly  she  looked  up  at  Steele 
with  wide  eyes  and  breath  that  came  sharply.  "Oh, 
it  is !  It  is !"  she  cried,  too  excited  to  talk  coherently. 
"I  was  right !    I  was  right !    See " 

"Is  what?"    Things  were  coming  too  fast  for  Steele. 

"Don't  you  see?"  Lora's  eyes  were  like  stars  in 
the  moonlight.  "It's  here !  Where  I  dreamed  it  would 
be !  See — here's  the  ring  in  the  top  of  a  chest !  This 
wooden  chamber  we  fell  into  must  have  been  built  to 
further  protect  it !"  She  tugged  vigorously  at  the  iron 
that  resisted  any  such  puny  efforts.  Steele  smiled  as 
he  saw  that  it  was  truly  the  ring  in  an  ancient  chest 
which  Lora  had  unearthed. 

"All  the  stage  settings !"  he  remarked.  "Now  if  you 
can  find  a  couple  of  doubloons  or  so " 


((' 


'They're  there !  Oh,  I  know  they're  there !"  Lora 
was  not  to  be  discouraged.  "Oh,  we  must  get  this 
out !" 

"Guess  we'll  have  to  leave  it  to  be  rescued  with  us. 
Pretty  hard  on  you,  little  girl,  but  we'll  have  to  wait 
till  daylight." 

Lora  abandoned  her  task  regretfully.  "Oh,  if  we 
could  get  out  !'* 

"If  we  could "  began  Steele. 

^'There's  jusf  one  chance."    The  girl  was  thinking 


JUNE  GOLD  269 

hard.  '*One  person  knows  where  I  have  gone, 
and " 

Both  stopped  suddenly  as  a  sound  came  out  of  the 
moonlight  night  above  them.  Faint  at  first,  it  gradu- 
ally took  on  sound  form. 

"Lory !    Lory !    Where  air  ye  !'* 

Lora  laughed  half  hysterically.  "It's  Sal!"  she 
cried,  relievedly.  "Salvation  Willis !  She  knew  where 
I'd  gone  and  has  come  to  find  me.  Yoo-hoo!  Yoo- 
hoo,  Sal !" 

Monotonously  the  voice  out  of  the  darkness  again 
called  out. :  Lory !    Lory !    Where  air  ye  ?" 

"Here  I  am,  Sal!"  called  Lora.  **I'm  in  a  hole — 
watch  out  or  you'll  be  in  one,  too !" 

A  head  appeared  over  the  top  edge  of  the  sand 
cave — a  black  silhouette  against  the  moonlit  sky.  Sal 
Willis  spoke.  Hers  might  have  been  the  voice  of  an 
angel  to  Lora  Humphrey,  but  it  was  laconically  an  un- 
concerned one  to  Harrison  Steele. 

"There  ye  be !"  spoke  Salvation  Willis.  **What  ye 
doin'  down  there?" 

**I'm  sitting  on  the  sand,  entirely  surrounded  by 
about  a  million  dollars,  and  almost  as  many  bottles  of 

whisky — and  a  man "  Lora  tittered.     "Can  you 

get  us  out,  Sal?" 

"Umph-humph !"  Salvation  Willis  showed  no  sur- 
prise at  the  peculiar  situation.     "Kin  I  git  a  rope.    I 


£70  JUNE  GOLD 

come  a-huntin'  ye,  Lory — I  was  afeered  ye  might  a- 
run  across  that  Hal  Everett.  Pap's  says  as  how  his 
religion  hain't  took,  an'  he's  on  a  rampage  again.  Jes' 
keep  a  settin'  till  I  git  back  with  a  rope." 

What  might  have  been  an  interminable  space  of 
time  under  other  circumstances,  passed  quickly  to  the 
two  imprisoned  ones  until  they  once  more  heard  the 
drawl  of  Salvation  Willis  at  the  top  of  the  sand  hole. 

"Here  I  be !"  she  said.  *'Ketch !"  A  rope  end  came 
whirling  down  at  their  feet. 

But  it  was  just  another  of  the  disappointments  of 
the  night  when  they  soon  found  that  any  such  efforts 
at  rescue  as  Salvation  Willis  could  put  forward  were 
useless.  Lora  dropped  the  rope  after  her  fourth  or 
fifth  attempt  to  negotiate  the  sand  that  shifted  like 
quicksilver. 

"You'll  have  to  get  help,  Sal,"  she  murmured 
weakly.  "Get  the  people  at  the  lodge — they'll  be 
more  kindly  in  their  criticism  than  anyone  here- 
abouts  " 

"Umph-humph !"  said  Sal.  She  started  to  draw  up 
her  rope. 

"Wait !"  called  Lora.  She  turned  to  Steele.  "Did 
you  mean  what  you  said  to  me  about  wanting  to  get 
rid  of — of  this — stuff?"  She  kicked  at  a  burlap  bag 
at  her  feet.  Steele  nodded.  "Of  course  I  meant  it — 
why?" 


(H 


id 


JUNE  GOLD  271 

"You  have  your  chance  then/*  she  answered,  and 
there  was  a  firm  set  to  her  Hps,  "Moreover,  I'm  not 
going  to  wait  for  you  to  change  your  mind.  Sal!'' 
she  called  to  the  girl  above  them.  "Are  you  for  pro- 
hibition?" 

Strong  drink  is  raging,"  said  Sal  Willis. 
I  mean,"  went  on  the  girl  at  the  bottom  of  the 
sand  hole,  "are  you  enough  against  it  to  want  to  get 
rid  of  some  superfluous  stuff  to  drink?" 

"Wisht  I  could  put  the  whol  kit  an'  bilin'  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea,"  bitterly  remarked  the  hommocks 
girl  above  Lora  and  Steele.  Lora  smiled  sympatheti- 
cally as  she  noted  the  bitterness  in  the  girl's  tone. 
Well  she  knew  that  Salvation  Willis  had  in  mind 
her  own  father,  whose  religion  and  office  of  deacon 
were  not  always  proof  against  an  appetite,  and 
things  in  the  Willis  home,  during  such  times  (none  too 
good  at  any  time,  either)  were  woeful. 

"All  right,"  Lora  commanded.  "Then  you  can  start 
by  getting  rid  of  some."  She  quickly  tied  the  end  of 
the  rope  around  the  burlap  bag  nearest  at  hand. 
"Haul  away,  Sal !" 

The  burlap  bag  slowly  disappeared  over  the  top  edge 
of  the  sand  hole. 

"What  is  hit?"  demanded  Salvation  Willis,  "and 
what'llldowithhit?" 

I  believe  the  folks  to  the  Northward  call  it  booze," 


ti- 


272  JUNE  GOLD 

called  Lora,  with  a  quick  humorous  side  glance  at 
Steele,  "but  it's  blood  brother  to  Monkey  Rum.  Do 
your  duty,  Sal !  Bury  it  in  the  sea.  There's  more  here 
when  you've  got  rid  of  that." 

It  was  evidence  that  the  fanaticism  with  which  Sal- 
vation Willis  had  been  imbued  in  her  own  little  cam- 
paign against  strong  drink  could  make  her  rise  to  the 
occasion  when  duty  called — the  way  she  worked 
within  the  next  two  hours,  before  the  first  streaks  of 
the  silver  and  purple  and  crimson  dawn  streaked  the 
ocean.  Back  in  their  hole  in  the  sand,  the  two  she 
left  behind,  talked  of  many  things;  of  many  things — 
except  "ships  and  shoes  and  sealing  wax ;  and  cabbages 
and  kings." 

The  head  of  Salvation  Willis  appeared  at  the  edge 
of  the  hole  with  the  gray  of  dawn  to  form  her  sil- 
houette background. 

"I  drug  'um  all  down  to  the  beach,  and  took  *um 
out  cross  the  breakers  and  dropped  'um  down  Teach's 
Hole,"  she  said  in  her  calm,  monotonous  tones,  tones 
that  held  no  suggestion  of  the  momentous  thing  she 
had  done,  all  alone,  out  there  in  the  early  morning. 
*'I  took  'um  out  in  Hal  Everett's  surf  boat,"  she 
further  informed.  "He  hain't  goin'  to  know.  I  'low 
he  don't  know  much,  fer  his  boat  warn't  even  beached. 
I  swum  out  to  git  hit,  a-bobbin'  in  the  breakers." 


JUNE  GOLD  273 

The  compensation  of  things!  Harrison  Steele  felt 
a  new  sensation — something  of  awe  for  the  ruler  of 
things  as  they  should  be.  Hal  Everett's  boat  had 
helped  to  wipe  away  the  crime  he,  Steele,  had  con- 
templated, and  brought  so  near  to  a  conclusion.  He 
wondered,  with  a  queer  smile,  what  Everett,  with  his 
own  great  appetite,  would  think  could  he  know  what 
his  boat  had  carried  that  night.  Sal  Willis  was  speak- 
ing again. 

"Yo-all  want  to  come  out  now?"  she  asked.  "Hifs 
most  breakfast  time." 

"I'll  say  so,"  was  Steele's  fervent  rejoinder  to  Lora's 
quick  insistence. 

"I'll  git  'um,"  said  Sal  Willis,  and  her  head  disap- 
peared. 

Surprise  is  but  a  small  descriptive  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  men  at  the  lodge  took  the  news  of  Steele's 
plight  when  they  were  awakened  shortly  after  by  the 
persistence  of  Sal  Willis.  Cardwell  himself  answered 
her  summons — measured  knockings  on  the  lodge  door, 
augmented  by  surely-aimed  chunks  thrown  at  win- 
dows indiscriminately.  So  intent  was  she,  though, 
that  she  never  noticed  his  pajamaed  appearance  as  he 
sleepily  came  out  on  the  lodge  porch.  Henry  still 
snored  peacefully.  His  "laying-down  time"  was  not 
over. 


^74  [JUNE  GOLD 

Sal  said  what  she  had  to  say. 

"But  I  say  now,"  peevishly  answered  Cardwell. 
"What  are  they  doing  in  a  hole?'* 

"They  war  treasure  huntin',  I  low."  The  Willis 
girl  was  unperturbed. 

"Did  they — did  they — find  it?"  Card  well's  next 
query  was  unexpectedly  eager. 

"I  dunno.  Yo-all  kin  ask  'um."  Her  mission  com- 
pleted, Sal  Willis  turned  like  a  frightened  deer  and 
sped  away  into  the  morning-lighted  forest. 

A  short  half  hour  later,  Lora  Humphrey  and  Har- 
rison Steele  breathed  the  ocean  air  that  blew  straight 
across  the  sands  toward  them  instead  of  having  to 
swirl  into  a  depression  to  reach  them.  It  had  been 
no  task  at  all  for  the  three  men  (for  Clem  Ashley 
insisted  that  he  had  helped  with  all  a  man's  vim)  to 
raise  Lora  in  the  basket-like  contraption  they  rigged 
up,  with  the  aid  of  the  aroused  Henry,  eager,  once  he 
was  awake,  for  adventure.  It  had  been  rather  a  more 
difficult  matter  with  Steele,  for  he  had  been  so  little 
able  to  help  himself.  Henry  had  leapt  to  the  rescue 
and  lowered  himself  into  the  cavern-like  hole  and  him- 
self fastened  the  rescuing  ropes,  in  gentle  manner, 
about  the  man  whom  he  had  come  to  admire  so  greatly. 
But  the  negro's  eyes  had  about  "bugged  out  of  his 
haid,"  to  quote  his  own  experiences  later  described, 
Virhen  he  was  told  to  fasten  the  rope  to  the  iron  ring 


JUNE  GOLD  275 

that  had  been  dug  up  by  Lora  Humphrey.  The  hours 
which  the  girl  and  Steele  had  spent  alone  while  Salva- 
ition  Willis  was  giving  ceremonious  burial  to  Steele's 
cache,  and  while  she  was  rousing  the  man's  friends  to 
their  aid,  had  not  all  been  spent  in  idle  conversation, 
no  matter  of  how  great  import  it  might  have  been. 
With  hands,  and  with  splinters  of  the  timbers  whose 
Totting  had  caused  their  downfall  to  fortune,  they 
had  dug  about  the  iron  ring  against  w^hich  Lora  had 
first  stumbled  to  her  discovery.  There  was  no  mis- 
taking it.  It  was  a  chest — just  such  a  chest  as  they 
had  both  read  about  in  the  tales  by  Stevenson,  and 
about  which  Lora  and  all  her  neighbors  and  their 
fathers  and  grandfathers  before  them  had  dreamed 
since  they  had  first  heard  the  tales  of  Black  Beard. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  Lora  Humphrey  had  been 
able  to  restrain  her  impatience  for  a  view  of  what 
the  chest  might  contain,  but  Harrison  Steele  had  seen 
to  that.  There  had  been  so  much  more  to  talk  about. 
They  had  found  the  greatest  treasure  that  Life  has 
to  give.  What  was  in  an  ancient  chest  could  not 
matter  so  greatly.  So  they  had  waited  in  their 
cramped  quarters  for  rescue. 

"Fasten  the  rope  to  the  iron  ring  of  that  chest, 
Henry!"  Lora  Humphrey  leaned  over  the  edge  of 
the  hole  to  give  her  orders.  Harrison  Steele  was  be- 
yond taking  command.     He  had  stood  breathing  that 


276  JUNE  GOLD 

ocean  air  for  about  two  minutes  after  his  rescue. 
Then  had  come  the  inevitable  collapse. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  deplored.  *'But  IVe  got  to  sit 
down."  And  he  sat.  Sat  till  they  managed  a  litter 
and  a  wheel  barrow  from  the  lodge  (the  latter  for  the 
chest)  to  carry  the  wreckage  home. 

"Lawsy,  Miss  Lory,  I — I — kain't !"  Henry  shivered 
with  the  fright  of  ancient  legend.  "Hit  likely  is  tied 
straight  to  the  debbil's  tail,  and  I " 


"Don't  be  a  fool,  Henry!"  was  the  girl's  retort. 
"Must  I  jump  down  there  and  show  a  big  strong  man 
like  you  how  to  lift  up  a  little  bit  o'  chest " 

"Yas'm,  Mis'  Lory — No'm!"  Henry  girded  on  all 
the  armor  of  bravado  of  which  he  was  capable  and 
the  half -excavated  chest  was  lifted  out  onto  the  sands 
of  Bogue  Island.  Could  it  have  spoken,  it  would  prob- 
ably have  welcomed  them.  It  had  been  so  long  since 
that  chest  had  been  lowered  into  the  sands.  Those  had 
been  different  men — different  times.  Now  there  was 
no  haughtily  swearing  man  with  his  beard  tied  behind 
his  ears  in  ribbons  who  gave  orders,  but  a  mere  slip 
of  a  girl  in  sand  and  water-stained  knickerbockers. 
The  men  who  stood  about  did  not  resent  her  su- 
premacy. 

"It's  all  so  much  like  a  dream — or  a  story — I  don't 
know  whether  I've  waked  up  or  not!" 


JUNE  GOLD  277, 

Grayson  Cardwell  stood  surveying  his  guests  who 
had  finished  their  breakfasts  and  who  had  gathered 
for  the  twentieth  time  about  the  tables  and  cushioned 
chairs  that  were  glittering  with  tarnished  gold  and 
the  fire  of  gems  whose  long  burial  had  not  dimmed 
their  luster.  Lora  Humphrey's  dream  find  had  been 
spread  out  so  that  all  might  see.  Lora  Humphrey,  her- 
self, seated  on  the  knee  of  old  Theophilus  Humphrey, 
'  who  had  been  hastily  summoned  to  the  greatest  event 
of  his  life,  smiled,  as  her  finger  sifted  through  a  mass 
of  unset  gems  in  her  lap. 

"Dreams  don't  feel  so — so  compact — or  so  hard,*' 
she  commented  with  a  smile.  "Dreams  aren't  such 
bad  things  after  all,  though.  Now  that  one  of 
mine " 

"Wonder  how  much  it's  all  worth?"  Billy  Meade 
spoke  with  the  meaning  of  a  man  to  whom  gems, 
though  with  romantic  attachment,  are  concrete  things. 
"There  was  such  a  quantity  of  most  everything  in 
that  chest — that  old  pirate  didn't  overlook  any  bets, 
I'd  say " 

From  the  corner  to  which  he  had  retired  with  a  tall 
glass  with  tinkling  ice  and  an  amber  liquid  that  had 
once  been  a  not  unusual  sight,  Clem  Ashley  piped  up. 

"He  didn't!"  said  Clem  Ashley.  "Now  I'd  say  this 
rum  of  the  vintage  of — say — 1716 — isn't  at  all 
bad " 


278  JUNE  GOLD 

"Consolation!"  murmured  Harrison  ^Steele,  as  he 
picked  up  a  necklace  of  jade  with  Byzantine  settings, 
but  with  his  glance  toward  Ashley.  He  was  wonder- 
ing as  the  necklace  slipped  through  his  fingers  just 
what  sort  of  gown  Lora  would  wear  with  it  in  Broad 
Acres.  There  was  one  room  with  a  wonderful  back- 
ground for  jade 

"Wouldn't  wonder  a  bit  if  we  haven't  run  across 
the  record  in  treasure  finds,"  commented  Cardwell. 
"We  ought  to  take  inventory.  Let's  see — I've  a  vol- 
ume here "     He  stopped  in  front  of  one  of  his 

bookcases  and  ran  his  eye  over  the  books.  "Umm — 
here  it  is — *The  Gold  Bug' — Edgar  Allan  Poe.    They 

found "  He  ran  his  fingers  down  a  page  to  the 

place  he  wanted  to  find.  "  'Diamonds — some  of  them 
exceedingly  large  and  fine — a  hundred  and  ten  in  all, 
and  not  one  of  them  small;  eighteen  rubies  of  remark- 
able brilliancy;  three  hundred  and  ten  emeralds,  all 
very  beautiful;  and  twenty-one  sapphires,  with  an 
opal.'  Umm !  Umm !"  he  ran  further  down  the  page. 
"Check  up  what  we're  lacking,"  he  said  with  an  up- 
ward glance  at  his  guests.  "Umm!  Umm!  'A  vast 
quantity  of  gold  ornaments ;  nearly  two  hundred  mas- 
sive finger  and  ear-rings;  rich  chains;  eighty-three 
very  large  crucifixes;  five  great  censors  of  great  value; 
a  prodigious  golden  punch  bowl' — er — er "  Card- 


JUNE  GOLD  279 

well's  moving  finger  skipped  again — "  'watches' — let's 


see " 


''We're  shy  on  crucifixes,"  remarked  Ashley  from 
his  comer  once  more,  "but  I'd  say  we're  strong  on 
rum !" 

"Shut  up!"  It  was  Steele's  usual  quietus  on  the 
efferv^escent  Ashley.  "Just  be  satisfied  with  drinking 
what  a  good  many  thousands  of  men  in  your  country 
to-day  would  give  their  eye  teeth  for,  and  restrain 
yourself " 

But,  as  old  Humphrey  deposited  his  daughter  in  his 
own  cushioned  chair  and  left  the  room  at  the  summons 
of  Henry,  the  girl  noted  that  Steele's  remonstrance 
had  fallen  on  the  empty  air. 

"As  I  was  sayin',"  remarked  Ashley,  as  his  glass 

waved  aloft "so  long  as  we  couldn't  find  our  own 

hard-fought- for  liquor,  this'll  do  fine !" 

Steele  flushed  as  Lora's  steady  eyes  met  his  own. 
Cardwell,  too,  was  not  slow  in  noting  the  faux  pas. 

"Don't  notice  him "  he  started,  but  Steele  broke 

in  curtly. 

"Oh,  she  knows,"  he  explained,  bitterness  accent- 
ing his  sharply-cut  words.  "I  might  as  well  tell  you 
now  as  any  time — there'll  be  no  more  liquor  in  Broad 
Acres,  and  if " 

Billy  Meade  smiled  his  slow  smile. 


280  JUNE  GOLD 

"Quite  suits  me  for  you  to  get  religion,  Steele,"  he 
remarked,  *'I  admit  I'm  entirely  fed  up  with  it  all — • 
no  taste  for  either  Federal  prison  or  haunting  con- 
science— Cardwell  and  I  have  just  been  talking  about 
it,  eh  Cardwell  ?" 

Cardwell's  smile  was  more  energetic.  "Quite  so! 
Quite  so!  I've  adventured  enough!  Want  to  get 
back  into  harness  now!  Won't  matter  to  me  if  the 
stuff's  never  found " 

"I  hardly  think  it  will  be." 

Steele's  quick  glance  at  Lora  and  her  answering 
smile  were  illuminative.  Only  Clement  Ashley,  from 
over  the  top  of  his  highball  glass  filled  with  an  essence 
distilled  two  centuries  before,  expressed  disapproval. 

"Where — where  is  it — whatd'ye  do  with  it?"  he 
demanded,  trying  to  glare. 

"Made  a  highball  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean,"  laughed 
Steele,  but  his  laughter  turned  to  seriousness  as  he 
turned  to  his  other  companions.  He  strolled  over  and 
lifted  up  one  of  the  hands  with  which  Lora  Humphrey 
had  been  toying  with  her  treasure. 

"Thanks,  old  chaps!"  he  said.  "I  was  sure  you'd 
understand.  But  I  do  want  you  to  know  that  our 
treasure  seeking  has  been  successful.  I'm  going  to 
take  back  to  Broad  Acres — by  hydroplane — the  great- 
est treasure  in  the  world.  Isn't  that  so.  Miss  Lora 
Humphrey  ?" 


JUNE  GOLD  281 

How  like  Harrison  Steele  it  was  to  vaunt  his  good 
luck,  Lora  Humphrey  did  not  then  know.  She  smiled 
a  long,  slow  smile,  and  her  breath  came  deeply.  She 
felt  like  vaunting,  too.  She  reached  over  to  the  table 
near  at  hand  and  took  from  it  a  book — one  of  those 
limp-bound  decorative  volumes  that  somehow  find 
their  way  into  the  best  regulated  bachelor  retreats. 
She  pulled  out  the  red  ribbon  that  bound  its  sides  to- 
gether. She  draped  that  red  ribbon  over  the  ears  of 
Harrison  Steele. 

"Black  Beard!"  said  Lora  Humphrey. 


THE  END. 


C 

4U 


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